I hear the voices
of those I could
have loved
in the silent hours
of night.

The high-pitched
cheery ones
held
by others
help my lids
fall

the lower-pitched
lonely ones
stay
by my pillow
side murmuring
soft
reproaches.

One
specially sad
tone
stirs me to
explain:

the string of
our existence
was not pulled
quite tight
enough –

if it were
I would have
loved you like
the parts that
hold together
my own
being.

That is all.