Unwritten Absence
His absence,
like a book I put down,
not caring to know its ending,
resounds with merely empty silence.
No anticipation do I feel
for that man’s return.
He left me, but our love
that flowered once upon a time
now lies withered on the ground.
It’s as if he never existed,
and as I write this poem,
our love continues fading
into oblivion.
Like this very poem
which very few eyes shall ever see,
he is going, going, gone.
I could easily unwrite this,
so that all remains
is unwritten absence.
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