You left me.

And a void perfectly shaped,

Perfectly unique, stayed.

 

Bearing your mark.

Like the mole on the inside of your thigh.

Like the stain in your eye

Deflecting the sun.

Like DNA, like fingerprints.

Yours alone.

 

Tell me, what does it mean

When they say, move on?

Have you? Moved on?

Yes. It means get over it.

You can’t walk out on love.

You just fell out and the light fell in.

 

A true silhouette, that no shape,

Nor mine, nor hers

could deign to replace.