Directionless cannot be an option

Every memory

a shared emotion

until the trickle started

at first a drop in the bucket

until the overflow:

our runoff

in opposite directions

We keep staring

at the bucket

using its water

Do I even have the capacity to

consistently precise

enough

Not since  

my friends don’t call me

the name of childhood

No longer able to sustain

what I’ve had before:

my silence

Consistently thoughtful

hardly ever

anymore

I’ve known home

I tried to do something

different

with my hair

Looking at pictures

how close she

was to looking

like I had back home

the smile fleeting

on my lips

She left