Missing
Missing.
A word that used to mean nothing.
Now it means everything.
Missing. It chills my blood.
Are you still alive?
Are you gone?
Will we find remains?
Will we ever know?
If you were unhappy, I did not know it.
You did not give any inkling of this.
Was I too thick-headed to see?
Or were you taken?
My sleep is fitful.
I am up and down all night.
Staring out at stars.
Wondering if you see them.
The worst scenario comes back often into my mind.
A white skull in a pile of leaves, found in November
During hunting season.
It is almost the end of August. Where are you?
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
