which I find myself constantly walking around
in the daytime, and falling in at night.
I miss you like hell.
― Edna St. Vincent Millay
People who keep memories
In glass jars
Have to be wary
Of stones.
I write poems.
I wear my heart on my sleeve.
I’m vulnerable
To the smallest stones.
My heart has a lot of holes
Certain people used to fill
But now they’re gone.
The heart aches at night
Long after
I’ve turned out the lights;
And it’s an aching
That can’t be quelled…
An emptiness
That can’t be filled
A disappointment
That can’t be consoled—
Except for a moment
When a small cold paw
Touches my nose
And my Muse Cat
Snuggles for warmth.