A poem to the woman who left me and the myth left behind — If I cried out for you,
would you hear me?
Despite the lump in my throat
despite the sword of loss,
tearing my organs,
one by one, piece by piece,
until all that’s left is an epitaph
of forgotten memory.
Would you see my smile,
among the ravens' grimace?
And hold my cold body,
despite the forest dark,
and hungry…