one empty chair

i have a small table

i have two chairs,

  one is always empty

maybe she keeps me

in a book as a

single flattened flower

or

maybe she’s indignant...

our memories like

agitated hornets in her hair

i feel a certain blue

one that’s distant

one that deepens into

the gone of black

but i’m still as high as

the moon for her

and just...

and just as

stone-cold lonely

(“Conversation” by Zack Zdral on fravery.tumblr.com)