there is no ear to hear the cry,
that hoarse breath that
drops onto the carpet, stains
it black
as fleeting scenes of her 
flash behind your eyes
and the flame of life dies
and sickness bitters the throat
and pain of unseen wounds
bites deep in unseen ground
and supurates,
the face looks down
the head is bowed
the fingers curl - and pain
a pain all round all square
all soft and suffocating there
clouds the head the face the eyes,
nothing to be said the silent
agonizing cry that reaches
from dead depths to tear the
quiet air - you cannot rise from
there to here, and none of time's wheels
can be reversed -
all the bright scenes run and run
all the love is spilled and done
and the person you would
lavish on
is sealed, well-sealed, and gone -
and so your carpet eyes
won't feel, can't feel,
and all the pain inside
to no avail,
you sleep you wake you breathe 
there is no more than these 
these empty, broken days.
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