I miss you
In the corner of my eye:
A shape in my periphery,
The you
Who dwelt
In the near regions
Of my world.

You have passed
Just an echo
And a shadow
And a wound
Where the life
Once burned.

Your goneness
Is the distance between
My missing part
And the grip
Of my heart
That holds the past
Of you still being.

© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015