Something Missing

You are not here, I am not there 
while a gaping hole bleeds from my side; 
And I am emaciated. 

Artifacts are everywhere: 
From Governor's Island 
to the trails left behind in Spain 
to the now barely audibles 
of all the times the words 
"I love you" 
were spoken to one another. 

Sometimes I(you) 
want to wish away 
the distance 
the adversity 
the                  , 
but they exist to remember you. 

The chords that bind and intertwine us 
will not whither away into fickle winds 
because 
I already know how much you love me, 
You already know how much I love you 
not today 
not tommorrow 
not the day after that