longing,
beyond what we have come to expect,
with every minor chord her heart bleeds a bit more,
trying to connect the space with,
words,
images,
thoughts,
she is still left without what she needs the most,
him.
adorned by daily rituals,
foam in coffee cup,
the walk by the trattoria,
the florist who stares at her a bit too long,
she is still not whole.
loaded with technology and communication she can almost touch,
him.
she can almost fill the void,
replacing his presence with,
his digital footprint,
but it’s not like his feet,
coarse and tender all at once.
so she is left with what she knows best,
the blood that flows in her aching heart,
and time,
which will soon change sides,
and become her ally.
