Gone

Matthew Klope, 2018

The waves are ceaseless and familiar,
erasing the prints of feet I might have planted in that sand,
every piece of good news.
The pain is like an old friend
comfortable, and cold.
It is so heavy
I am weightless within it.

She and I can see a long way,
even through the tears in our eyes.
We can see the sun set,
the waves crash,
hear the restless noise
of the breakers.

I want to show you that.
I hope I will show you that.
And the hoping hurts more than anything.