Your name is a song,
I’m lost in the chorus.
Hiding out from my life,
from your death,
I work hard to forget,
filling ketchup, pouring coffee,
wandering streets
in missing pieces. I am
no one.
Despair’s gates, like heavy
bars, crush even murmurs
of love remembered
‘til destiny, in its way,
draws me homeward
and, in its embrace,
I begin to heal.