completely, at a loss.
duelling stormed seas mus've
caught you, sucked you to the
bermuda triangle.
mornings were the best part -
trace your curves, soundlessly
take in last week's pin wheel
of stale cigarettes, each
complicated Haiku,
the circling race of the
3 am mistake.
styled mutiny this,
your blog, each line, run on
miles distant from this
still life of mine, lost in
the humdrum beat, mundane
as heartaches, daybreaks.
you left before we met.
yours was a reason, an
unexpected tread in
the waiting. cue the end.
No one can write the six
syllable line like you.
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