She hides around corners, in
Other people’s hair, in old notebooks,
In random quotes, in places
In which she no longer lives.

She hides in my memory, waiting
Until I have forgotten I ever
Had to forget her before she
Explodes into my consciousness,
A spectre of a life I once lived,
A ghost of Christmas past.

She knows nothing of this,
Though if she ever thinks of me,
I expect she suspects.

Perhaps I hide in unexpected
Corners of her life, in the streets
Of the fascinating city I have
Never seen that is now her home,
In her memories of events
That I did not imagine.

Or perhaps she has left behind
All that I ever was to her,
Whatever that may have been,
In the tarmac and concrete
And pages and words of
Her old life.

There is a peace I need to make,
An open end I should have closed,
A fade out that is still
Burbling in the background
Almost four years on.

The harsh January snow melted,
But her heart never did:
Would it have shattered
Had it not been frozen?

12/15/2016

Posted on 12/30/2016
Copyright © 2024 Richard Vince