The Unspoken Poem by Clyde King

I hear the rustle of dry leaves
I feel the ruined bones
I see swirling reds, blues, greens
Fading like water colors on wet paper

I look for corners folded over
Of pages in the books you once read

There are no notes in the margins
No words underlined to help me
Remember what was lost

Once you told me you could not
Think about me without crying
I never understood what you meant

Did I fail to become your dream?
Did you refuse to become mine?

Is that what you couldn't tell me?
Is that why you left?

June 2017