I Miss Her
Struck by the silence of that which should beat,
exposing as hollow the phrase 'I live'.
Call me a physician, NO, not that of the physical,
summon that of the emotional, nay, the mystical.
It's so empty here, thus I make friends with the Air,
he tells me about the grand loneliness of being everywhere to the extent that no-one even cares you are there.
I hug him and with a whisper tell him I'm here,
He smiles, saying he'll never leave me, it is not in him to do so.