Another sad love song. Poem. My only solace is churning heartache into art.

STUNTED

Whispers of us
linger in the ether—
silence is an answer,
and I am listening.

With all that is no more,
and all that waits to be,
leaning into your absence
elicits song but no reply.

How present you are in the hollow
of my palm, in the turquoise it cradles,
a futile talisman to bridge the chasm,
to resurrect the calm before our quarrels.

Starved of forests, lacking in trees,
in branches where secrets unfold,
bereft of mountains,
we ceased climbing, ceased soaring.

We remained grounded
within the confines of four walls—
our love gasped for light,
reached for expanses it never found.

Through a breach I glimpse the cedar’s
grandeur, its tremendous shadow cast long,
a tender embrace that allows
my love for you, your love for me.