Something moves me, something pulls me down.
Your voice, low, aching within me pulls me down,
Your breath so near, you smell so heart achingly pure,
A careless word — my name — brings me back,
Just for a moment, almost… then you are gone
With a dying note hanging in the air, you are gone
Leaving only a too soon fading warmth in my arms
As I hug your coat and hang it on the rack.
Your face — I cannot even see your face,
Though your eyes are warm melting through my tears
— A delicious shudder at your memory,
A shiver deep within when you are near,
And you ignore me… — No! What a fool I am!
You do not even see me – how could you?
— And if you wanted me I would be lost.
© MMXV Zoë Elizabeth Butler