Spaces

I backed up,

and stepped in a hole again.

I thought for a moment

that I was free,

I thought for a moment

she was gone.

She is gone.

I'm stuck 

in the rumor mill

fighting for the 

breakdown.

She let go

like Plath,

sipping the bitter gin

from the bottle

at the bottom.

Looking up

I think of water,

I think of milk,

I think of her.

The dirt in my shoes is telling,

like the abstract.

I have been forgotten.

And I have left

no empty spaces...