For A


I think of you (when
I think of you) with
peace in my heart, and not
with pieces of my heart.

Peace for you,
and peace for me.

Trust and love
cannot exist where
desperation
and silence start to grow.

It’s so much breathtakingly
less
than
a wall between us;
it’s nothing.

it’s just nothing.

I want to make this grandiose.
I want to call it the vacuum of space.
But it isn’t even that, after
I gathered pieces of myself away,
crept to my side,
stopped searching for you.

I want to make it filled with pathos,
an empty cup thrown,
little litter on the street.
But it isn’t even that.

It’s a little nothing,
(like a little bit of air
injected),
But it isn’t even that.

Still, I will fill this space
with peace in my heart,
flood it with my hopes
and dreams for you

and me,

and though we
are a memory.

You are there.

And I am here.

There is still poetry.

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