I look at you and feel nothing
numb
Not even a shred of knowledge
recognition
Of hurt or love or passion
I look at you
and know nothing
of the ‘man’ you have become
I read your words
and know they could have been mine
written for me
in different tine and meter
I see your poems
- and nothing comes -
your soul
- and I walk away -

There was a time I loved you
would have cared for you more than
life itself
cried for you and broke my heart
that you might heal
There was a time I knew you
and cared
now e’en your memory dies