in all of my hurry
in all of my worry
i had nearly forgotten
and now
at thirteen minutes past midnight
i realize that it is may
and i
sink
down and down farther
into a sorry pit
into an endless, abandoned well
into a frightful sea
because
you're gone
and
nothing seems to matter
as much as that
and i wonder
is this how you felt all of the time?
is this why you left?
because
every
may
it's
like
you
leave
me
again
and i remember why i believe in ghosts
YOU ARE READING
the shepherd's sword
Random[the things we dare not say aloud] the walls have faces, you know. the angels do not.
