SINCE I DON'T HAVE YOU, I conjure up an image
that is, somehow, both real and ideal.
What I do recall is etched deeply, in dark and
labyrinthine caverns of my troubled mind.
The heart is a profound well of reminiscence
that draws up an intangible yet true past.
A newfound, tranquil corner in me reassures that
love, though gone missing, was never lost.