It is like being alone…
despite her constant presence–
the unraveling mind, shriveled heart,
the uncontested compression of thought
when the eyes resemble frosted glass
upon which longings etch random shapes,
lucidity fading like worn denim.
In front of a sun-mottled window
she eats a Hershey bar, the chocolate
melting on her tongue the way memories
melt away in her synapses.
I reach out to stroke her hair,
yet even this close
it is like being alone
To view more from this author pick up a copy of the Spring/Summer 2018 issue of The Stray Branch.