The air is crisp and sharp to
the breath.

I brace myself to the thousand cuts of
another day.

Mornings always hold such promise to the
quiet hours of our separation.

And yet even as I stand alone...you are not
absent.

You are the grace that cuts the
deepest.

I draw you through on the curve of
my breath.

And like a blade you slice with
your departure.

I bleed...like this...for
hours.

Until the day is spent in the
blood of goodbye.

And night falls with sudden
ease.