Uneasy with the thought that you have left
evidence of your return I am without
no calls or message at all, except
the echo silence makes with each new doubt.
A prison I might call these empty rooms
bereft of one who lived inside its doors
and left me prisoner under a pale moon
like us eclipsed by all that we ignored.
Ask anything and I will take to task
to undo or repair what made you leave.
I sit here with tears and an empty flask
not sure of what I have or truly need
The sadness of not knowing’s difficult
lack of parting words- the final insult.
