There will always – Yawp

There will always be a part of you
that remains in the piece of me that's missing

Andrea Reisenauer

I tried to place small white labels

on everything I remembered: 


our bodies framed by sheets,

those fleeting cobblestone meetings, 

your shadow. 


I longed to sketch the edges 

between morning and frost, 

to trace letters in the shape-shifting

condensation of the grass,

to paint the strands of us –  


but it was August 


and the crisp stickers 

peeled off your skin

like distant footsteps 

of rain. 


You became the shade: 


expanding, dilating, 

shifting with the coarse angles of day – 

dripping, heaving,

leaking through my cupped hands. 


So I clasped them tight

and gathered the wilting 

glints that remained 

into a little glass bottle

and placed it on a shelf

in a room 

facing the sea 

next to that piece of me

that will always be 

searching for you.

More poems:

Rainbow Food


Milkshakes in the Rain

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