Gone

I want to do something wild and impulsive
Like a feral animal
Who makes a sudden and desperate escape from certain death
I want to rip my clothes or tear my hair
Make several little stitches there
And I wonder where
My sanity has gone
Why I seek to King and then dethrone
To scramble into arms
And then want to be alone.
All or these things
remnants of the tree from which I was a seed
Who can no longer speak to me
speak reassurance and distraction
And swear love endlessly.
The line has been disconnected
And in my heart a fraction
A portion of it missing
Buried with him and my picture
In eternal sleep.