It was a flaw in my creation,
The heel of Achilles in my strong decoration,
A stain of lonesome in my personality,
A condemnation I perpetually hide
and which swallows the joy in me
on the daily:
Loneliness.
The leaf hasn’t fallen yet,
but it’s dried, crusty,
weak, and barely clinging to her mother’s branch.
The loneliness hits me as soon as you leave;
Don’t leave.
Don’t make the leaf in me
fall,
get swept
by the wind,
and fade away
the way your voice would
the next time
you call.
~eamipoe