Neither Will I

Beneath the dark of a shadowed hug,
Fold the darkness in half as I whisper.

A chair sits empty next to the table.
Your dinner waiting with no one to eat.

Something you know about.
Something you avoid looking at daily.
But you never speak the name.

Neither will I.

A river isn’t made of water; it’s the channel
the water left behind.

You had someone once.

Someone who responded. You missed the conversation.
Someone used to wake you up each morning.

That someone is you now.