dispossession

You were never mine.

You gave yourself greedily in generous acts
that left nothing after but breath and damp,
and the wait for what's next
- which eventually,
not before long but after it, became nothing
but emptiness,
and too much to think of it.

As time stopped spooling out,
like a broken string
tied to a sky-lost kite, I realized
at last that you'll always be mine,
which you already knew.

(You were always
right.) You learned too fast,

considering all we had planned for you.