The hole in the ground is the result of
untruths, denial, unspoken regret
and impregnable pride.
And to think, before we met,
the surface here was as smooth
as fresh-laid cement.
But I dreamed about you last night.
I dug out your old love letters,
retrieved your picture,
placed it on the mantle.
The hole is still there
but I no longer live in it.