i find shame in lamenting the loss of you,
as loudly as i may;
lesser hearts have split over lesser spills, but i'd rather
they think me beyond splitting-- no gaps in my design,
every piece fashioned in the shape of your absence.
i would contend with my greaters, but i have not yet recovered
a heart; nothing to compete over war-torn turfs, dug under.
it seems like a sudden age, gusts over fields;
the years ahead are what make me heavy, hammered, sullen
with endless wonderings: why be strong, why conquer the fear of others
when i cannot conquer the fear of you, of distant lands
uncharted yet inevitably looming-- your flattened face
was the final sight of love, buried now
in minor crevices, compliments, vague lingering remnants
of a heart which has gone astray, outdone.