Sitting all alone on this quiet cold step,

I hear your voice calling out to me.

But as I look down the wooded street-

the canopy of leafy trees covering the harsh rays

from my pail skin – sprit – vulnerable heart – .

It’s not you I see on the dreary cement walk.

Or in the hustling cars that pass by our home.

And I am forced to realize that the cry was,

once again, a memory that stole me from reality.

Suddenly I realize while still safely on the limestone steps -

- That you won’t be returning.

It is at this moment, the busy city street stops.

Everyone once focused on themselves

turn to watch my demise; and it is them-

not I, who all at once fall down to their knees,

holding their heads while letting out a pained cry.

But I will not let the world fall apart –

even if you were my whole eternity.

So I grab the black painted iron railing,

and force myself to stand on unsure legs;

picking up the folded unsure bodies as I do.

Breathing for the first time in years.