A dark moon rose in your face the day you told me this wasn’t your place;

this wasn’t: your desire, your need, your aim

and with every letter your love was tamed


until all I had was a box of regretful lines, apologies and grace

until all our future became a hard ugly waste.


So you’ve left me now.

But not for that faraway place in another land.

You’ve left me right here in the palm of my hand.