You arrive on the last hour’s edge
like a ritual I fail to erase.
I stumble over all you have left me with
with the intention to leave,
all you drew from the world’s bosom
as freely as water.
While I have always wanted
to be a river,
you alone make me think I might be one.
How else could I have given you
all of myself
and still remained whole?
*
painting: Rafi Haque
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