dedicated to him.
to the distant echo of piano keys
where his melody became therapy
to the cold, fragile skin
where his fingertips used to trace
to the faded walls
where his body pressed against mine
to his eyes, now dull and grey
where they once twinkled with desire
to the deserted street corner
where he used to wait for me every Tuesday
leaning against the stop sign
his earbuds plugged in
heaving sighs of steam in the frosty air.
dedicated to the empty space
of where he once was.
YOU ARE READING
in case I can't explain why
Poetrydedicated to his memory and how I failed to keep him.
