Dust

Here I am again.

Not where I sit,
listening to the sirens
and water fall,

here, is in my mind.

Thoughts of her fill my mind and
make me want to cry in anguish.
Cry into my lifeblood
as it leaves.

Like she made me leave,
to flow onto the concrete and change
shape. No longer
a man, a husband, but
something without form or meaning.

A pool left to dry
and be worn away by the wind
until all that is left
is the outline of what
once was.

I’ve been here before,
cast to the wind as dust.
I just never imagined her hand
being the one to cut the vein.

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