soften your gaze, i beg you; i know why you’re
here with fists still trembling, and your heart
still seething – you found all the letters you
addressed to her on the top shelf in the
garage, underneath april’s memory-box.
i'll explain to you after the storm-clouds
finish bleeding – i never brought myself
to drink the hibiscus tea she got for me,
but brew yourself a cup. to mail those
letters would be an admission of guilt –
i said her absence is no longer a shadow
looming over me, but i never meant it.
i only feel at ease when a part of me
feels her shadow, ready to jump out
and draw the blinds shut on the
mourning sun.
