What was left behind, now lingers
Take away what’s gone, still attached are your fingers
Typing.
The screen now loading
I look to
The wall of windows torn into two
The moonlight blocked by multiple swatches
Hand-sewn together with kind, yet it snitches
For every morn the sun rises, the bed
Wakes up with only one half, for it was vexed
What was there is now headed to the land
Of milk and honey with no reprimand
By no means could anyone have predicted
The lights, devious, yet poised
Could simply shatter one’s hopes
On a line, the falsities
Of life dwindle
As the poem ends, so must all intangible