I am running out of energy to wait.
My stubborn patience wears dangerously thin.
It is on the edge of panic.
It is easy to remember details
that are etched into my tender memory—
secrets too precious to forget,
too dangerous to carry.
I return to afternoon after lonely afternoon,
reciting your name, height, reason for leaving,
how you exited my doorway in red flannel.
The search party never returns with good news.
It never returns with you.
In a city of half-kept promises
and false motives,
you never found a pace that fit.
It is no surprise that you remain
a wandering migrant,
a wondering traveler
with no place to rest
your tattered suitcase.
It is a dangerous thing,
to fall for a face.
You gaze upon it and taste hope,
even when there is not
a single drop of it left.
Are the surges of pain unstoppable,
or has your growing numbness
won the fight?
Either way, it is time to confront
what demands confrontation.
The splinters must be removed.
If the ending were simple,
it would not have mattered.
There is always a little aftermath
within every earthquake,
even if the tremors cannot be voiced.
what lies behind your veil?
I will never truly know you
until I have memorized the spaces
between your enchanting silhouette.
When the long-awaited calm
soothes your scars,
you will recall
why you had to forget him.