Poetry

Gone
(From “Everything, Always, Forever”)

You’re gone, 
But what of the showers? 
What of the braille our fingers read on our skins?
What of the warmth of summer in our laughter pressed against our chins?
What of the soul lost in between our eyes?
What of the promise of comfort for the rest of our lives? 
What of the person you used to turn only around me;
A gentle caress only I was allowed to see?
What of the memories I’m left to bear,
On lonely nights, remembering the scent of hairs? 
What of the art I can no longer consume? 
What of the music that used to be our tune?
What of all the things that were, and couldn’t be?
You’re gone,
And the showers aren’t as warm as they used to be.