Undone Poem by Ann Mckeeman

you left...


...quietly and quickly...and in your solitary exit

...a hole was ripped into the fabric of my existence....

a space which began for all in the light of day-

- but continues to grow for me in the dead hours leading to dawn..

....each memory shredding the edges of the wound...like dull scissors on fragile silk...

...and when i try to mend the tears....i am left with the threads (i cannot spin...not straw into gold...nor these bits back into myself)

yet each day and night pass...and the hole is now a chasm

(i no longer wonder what may lie within it, or even, what lies beyond...)

i measure my breaths...like the stitches which wont hold the edges together anymore....