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.