After you’ve gone

After you’re gone,

afternoon air greets me 

disguised as soft, 

simple,

seemingly oblivious to my state,

to my sense of selflessness.

Feeling static,

stopping, 

stalling.

Strange.

“Stranger” sounds fitting.

Forever a stranger to love,

to my life,

to letting go.

Regret grabs me. 

Back behind the veil,

a mannequin,

so dumb to your denials.

Days breathing life

into our languishing love.

You, long gone,

before yesterday.

I’m standing still.

Barely, 

but here!

Breathing in the afternoon air

I remember….

“Where there’s breath there’s hope!”

I’ll take those odds

and hope for the breath.