August 7, 2016

Drought of You

I'm not seeing you
any more on my wall,
your posts no longer visible
to my naked eye.
Nor am I hearing
when you call,
your voice lost
in the steady
drip of rain,
or maybe it's sprinklers
running late, again,
coming and going
at unpredictable hours,
almost like rain, itself.
I must be in a drought
of you, since I'm slipping,
not knowing
what to do. 
You used to come on strong
in all my dreams,
but now you're
just another ghost,
another something
unlike it seems.