They say fondness
makes the heart
grow absent.
Well, you’re miles away
in a driving rain,
telling me you’re sorry
from the middle
of a desert,
under a flotilla
of amethyst clouds.
Never again will I let on
that I love you—
you never believed me
when I said it out loud.
You built your dam upriver
from my valley, and
that water’s not going
to trickle down again.
The shadows grow longer
even earlier now, and
we’ll never be as green
as we were back then.
(c) 2018, by Hannah Six
Image: Skeeze via Pixabay
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