nothing at all

waited ten years
so
what’s a
couple
more months
without
your notebooks
and laughter

how do i write
about
fucking you

pastels
became oil then
acrylic
became a button
became a color
still choose
lines
light producing shadows
sees everything red
firetrucks
in the driveway
you were gone
when i got home
then stopped
suddenly
then started
all in one
motion
landing
on your outstretched
finger
to rest