I hid your emptiness from you
nine months ago in a cigar box buried
in a field forgotten by its senile farmer.
I tempted you with words
smooth as those the wind speaks
on a slow day. I stroked your hair
and fed you candied ginger
that conceals its spicy delicacy
deep in an amber heart.
Without knowing, you helped me
by drawing a few extra breaths
for the two hearts beating inside you.
After the hairs on my head finally
fall at my feet like memories
my stiff back wont let me pick up,
look inside the box under the rock
in the forgotten field.
There youll find the emptiness
you thought you lost,
as small as a childs coffin,
as big as the hole in which it lies.