Because you did not encircle me completely,
even though I would have let you, wanted you to,
I still retain my own image of myself, albeit one
ringed with a halo of ragged scars where we joined.
And it is no surprise to hear you tell me,
“I have a hole in my soul, where you have been.”
Robert Ford lives on the east coast of Scotland, and writes poetry, short stories and non-fiction. His poetry has appeared recently in Clear Poetry, Alliterati, and Firewords.