There is something that I miss
But was it ever there?
I paint our faces in warm, swirling colors,
I blend us together into one form lightly divided by lines
of color and blankness; but were we ever
That way?
I stare for hours at the photographs; were we ever happy?
Were they ever
Happy?  
This is why they're letting go, not of us but of each other,
they're tearing themselves free of
Each other
And what, I wonder, will we be from now on?  How do we
navigate between these two shores, at first seeming one but
now the sea between them that was always there, is Visible
When she meets someone, I hope she does, what will we do?
How will he become slowly, carefully, part of our picture,
or will he be abrupt, will it be abrupt, an awakening Too
early in the morning?  
And when he, if he ever, meets someone; what will we do
then? How will you feel, and
How will I?  Will you resent me for my acceptance, for
trying to take it in stride, for
Trying to keep him a part of my picture, a part of my life?
Demon is a simplified word, it lets us off the hook so we
don't have to
Imagine
How he's feeling and what he wants, how much he cares and
even though he doesn't know how, doesn't know how like she
does, but do you still want to hear?  Am I talking to empty
space and you are
Letting him off the hook by calling him
Aba ra?
By calling him
He
By calling him
No name man
By calling him
The man who was once married to Imma?