There is a hole in the world where you once
were,
a gap of such dimensions it cannot ever be
missed,
and yawns in cavernous gaping, like some
shocking
smile, smashed open, holding to eternal
edges, where
my heart hovers by the threatening
boundaries of
the abyss, and my mind huddles to one side,
every
now and again, peeping into that darkness,
as if in
an unexpected moment, I could see you there
again;
as if I could find your shape deep inside
that chasm,
and then, pull it back into place, haul it
from the lair,
where it had been hiding, lost to sight,
disappeared
into that bunker of time, that grotto of
grief which had
claimed it, and broken the world I had
known asunder,
wrought that fathomless depth with its
wounded mouth,
destined to remain open, silent, mocking,
keening in
a voice which echoed through memory, and
which spoke
always of what once was and might never be
again,
now that you were lost on the other side of
that hole
in the world I once knew, where only your
desire could
see you clamber back through, and close it
up again.
