Severance Poem by Ban Sidhe

The wind rushes through my open window
It sucks the heat of the moment out of this claus-space.

Thoughts flow like water, worries, hopes, fears
bobbing to the surface like trash off a pier.

Noticed....

Forgotten....

The air is still fresh from the night's gift of dew,
though having the taste; the smell of heat to come.

When does this road end?

I have been driving it for hours now....

Haven't I?

I know that bland, blank stone face is there.

I pass it everyday.

Twice a day.

I look at others as they pass me.
I wonder if their lives have ended today also.

Am I moving?

The cool wind rushing through my open window says I am....

I hope not.

I don't want to get there.

I don't want to see her.

I don't want to tell heartful strangers that, 'Yes, she use to be my other self.'

That we were one - until a lifetime ago when the phone rang.

Am I moving?