God's Lonely Man
My body has ate,
my body has slept—
but I have not.
Three weeks in shadow,
heartache pressed into my ribs,
a woman gone,
a silence screaming.
Torture by proxy.
I’m done—have done—
and on time,
as expected.
My young self-confidence.
She left before
my explanation.
Not sure what’s worse—
adding before
I’ll never catch up
to her honesty.
A body full of memory,
destroyed by
unwanted listening.
Who am I?
Who did this?
Did it magically appear
just for me—
a wishful boy
damaging hope,
demanding nightmares?
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