And again, the affable resurgence.
I am not used to love,
nor used to Love. It spills
out of my eyes in tears, yes,
but also I am found
amid the ruins of myself,
longing for more of Her,
of you.
So here I reach back
to you, dear.
I am sorry for my loss.
I am not used to this,
am used only to indifference,
and when the Sun turns to face me,
I can only look away
until Night cuts me down,
and I remember you again.
09/24/2016
Richmond