Heart Dent
Old soul died young. Set in your ways by the age of four. Crotchety at seven. Downright cantankerous at ten. And then you died at eleven. And maybe that was why You seemed like such an old soul. Wide eyes born open. My eyes, staring back at me And beyond and around me Agog and agape. Gobbling up the big everything. Surprised at the world. Brows arched, wide eyes. Each breath counting as one less. When the day came. And the last one was spent. And I died a little too While the ghost of you flitted In my peripheral vision. Cursed to outlive you with each breath. Heart dented, un mended. You left without a note. No warning, no prep. Only the waves to counsel me Along a shore you would have to leave un run. But I keep your leash and collar Trudge solo, heart dented.
The Detourist 