The lamplight’s my companion on this trip
to nowhere but the pages of my book,
and outside night is falling drop by drip
by drab- light’s not the only thing you took
with you. I’ve promised that I will not look
back now on then and sometimes I believe
myself when I tell lies, when I unhook
my moorings and prepare myself to leave.

I want to be the only one to grieve,
imagining you’re well set on your way;
but words are not the only shrouds I weave
and someday they will bind me where I lay
myself down all among the starry sky,
remembering the good in your good-bye.

Kicking down a Spenserian sonnet for this month’s YW poetry slam. I only screwed up the rhyme scheme three times. Go me.