the other day i are standing up
over the campfire you left
the night before
it would be easy for me to
think you left it for me
cold as it is
maybe just maybe
you left a scrap
of your heart
from breakfast
i could slide down deep
into the warmth of
the memory
of campfires past
where i told you about
spirits who whisper
on the edges of my days
the veil i wore
for a whole year
or the insects i rename
to this day
instead i rock back on my heels
clean up evidence of
a place you slept once
sew myself back together
with threads of a shirt
you wore
when you were
mine
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