tell me

tell me what happened after you left –
of the intimacies that died
absent of ceremony, without song

the days since have been a procession
of ponderous silences, so close together
it has been impossible to speak between them

the things that should really rather
be shouted into the cavity created,
refined to echoes – but a response at least

tell me what happened after I awoke –
of the parting that halved me
absent of permission, and without bidding

though even had I shouted my atonement
while you still could hear it
no balm would have eased the escapement

the suddenness of it has exacted a void,
negative space for a familiar face,
impassable and contrary to heart’s reason

© Sarah Whiteley