A gust of wind came in from the sky
and threw your face from the windowsill
the face that bore me through life, until
this moment. Must I now say goodbye?
One day, when I was looking elsewhere
a gust of wind blew away your picture.
You left me again, or did I leave you?
The pills help to take away my fear
they have deadened the pain of your leaving.
My eyes are open – a new clarity
comes from my unaccustomed sobriety.
Tonight, I have left behind my grieving
for the face that it still smiling at me
from a broken frame. Must you go, really?
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