I touch the bruise
that is the memory of you,
test the ache of it*
our spring and summer
has come and gone
my dancing,
daisy-like
under the warmth of your gaze,
slows, uncertain
limbs falter, heavy with doubt
my face, once oriented to your sun
droops in shame
pride hacks hesitant tendrils
hope has stretched your way
forced to choose
between continued vulnerability
and sensible self-protection,
my heart shutters,
latches tight against
the winter storm of your absence
Circe - Madeline Miller