I wrote

‘the waves adorned your feet
in silent hushes’.

I wrote and I never
said. When you needed it,
when you cried for it,
I never said. I wrote.

In your loft,
our joint belongings
swelled my throat
and I didn’t say.

But I saw you looking.

Your feet descended first -
from the attic, from the attic,
your feet looked the same.

I couldn’t say,
So I wrote this.