His memory hovers over me like fog,
in him, I see the beautiful morning mist
surrounding me with love and nostalgia.
Tho’ the snows of mountain peaks
are warmer than the hearts of grief,
yet, I worry that my ‘Chapter two’ lover
will see this impediment as a murky haze
that makes new beginnings difficult,
if not impossible.
Maybe, maybe, nobody after him
will ever have me whole –
any affection I might feel for another
will in someway be a second-place – shared,
surely….surely, my love-heart has been deflowered.