Untitled III

I could do it easily, now that the silence has come.
But now it's waves rage, nothing like the stillness that once was.
When snow dusted the window pane and your liquid gold laugh rang out nightly.
I miss you so, not just the lilt of your voice, but the melody of your being.
Even in the spaces of the inbetween, when midnight's shadows swallowed your light and I raised the tattered flag.
I tried to recreate the ballad of your sighs and sorrows, but the piano passed.
The weight of my heart on the keys snapped its strings.

I miss you. In the way that I always do.
I miss you in knowing that you are not gone, but composed of smoke and stardust.
And in my somehow-hope that words can reach what hands cannot.