fingertips numb, but it still hurt
to touch his skin, still warm.
he was there.
but really wasn’t.
his face, silently said goodbye
as they hurriedly whisked him away,
for different reasons than I wish could have been. But what could have been? “passed” she said, like it was history.
he’s past and there’s no more future.
what could have been?
what was love?
what was our truth?
now, with bare hands, worn raw
i’m picking up the pieces that fell from the door
when i opened my heart
i wanted you to catch me.