Small pieces not necessarily related....
Never shall there be another He and I --
whoever left first was luckier than the One
who now lingers in corners;
and could I follow
He who remains
uncharted, absent, or infinite -- I would be uncertain
of where We go, or whose shape leads.
We loved, our lips
cold but for
the warmth of a stone unmoved.
His breath rose in the morning and I called it
glass, soon to break; broken, soon swept,
tossed as slivers to stones.