there's a sense of longing in me

As i read Rosemary's letter

her writing's honest

cant forget the years she's lost

in isolation

she talks about her love

and as i read

"i'll die alone"

i know she's aching

there's a certain detail seen here

the pen must have slipped to a side

and left a stain

next to his name

shee knows he's gone

and isolation

is all that would remain

the wound in me is pouring out

to rest on a lover'shore