I cry for me tonight

for no-one else -
no-one gone and no-one done
no-one in the ground
no faces, hands and eyes
that might have been -
just me marooned alone in time
no touch, no reach, no lies
no heart strings stretched
no memory of good -
I cry for me tonight, this woman
washed-up high and dry
as her life's wreck
a rising, formless mess of wood.

Does she believe in loneliness?
Does she remember her last kiss?
That in this place of breathlessness
She is missed, oh she is missed?
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