Writing hurts and

Heals it’s easy

Really just plunge

The pen in

And bleed just

Like loving except

The opposite the

Pain starts when

The healing begins

I write for

Men that I

Don’t remember they

Haunt me in

These words like

Ghosts of joys

Past ring like

Clock towers off

In the distance

Reminding me of

Time ticking by

Too many lost

Loves to count

I simply remember

Them here now

Alone I was

The last to

Leap from limb

Shaking in late

October’s winds shivering

Not from cold

But from newness

Soon I’d no

Longer be a

Part but apart

Of what I’d

Known suddenly it

Came a burst

Of wind sending

Me down down

Further down until

I landed softly

In your lap

Now becoming your

Fall