you, gone

You, gone –
a gap in me. You
not here
I’m a hole

the depth a breath draws
in silence
before the sob, the gasp,
erupts.

This gap oldens,
oldens me, oldering me,
mouldering me.
You, in my mind, young as evermore.
And youngering -- still.

The gap gasps –
the hole – howls.


When will this gap
bud
When will this hole
bloom

When will I,
fugitive shouldering
a smouldering sun
breathe in our silence
and not be broken?