Isolation Years

There's a sense of longing in me
as I read Rosemary's letter.
Her writing's honest.
Can't forget the years she's lost.

In isolation
she talks about her love.
And as I read
I'll die alone,
I know she's aching.

There's a certain detail seen here...
The pen must have slipped to the side
and left a stain
next to his name.
She knows he's gone.

And isolation
is all that would remain.
The wound in me
is pouring out to rest
on a lover's shore.