Unwritten Absence

His absence, like a book I put down, not caring to know its ending, resounds with merely empty silence. No anticipation do I feel for that man’s return. He left me, but our love that flowered once upon a time now lies withered on the ground. It’s as if he never existed, and as I write this poem, our love continues fading into oblivion. Like this very poem which very few eyes shall ever see, he is going, going, gone. I could easily unwrite this, so that all remains is unwritten absence.