it feels like I am still
searching for you—
you, whom I'm sure
I remember,
though the last time
we spoke, there was silence
between us,
and the last time we were together
in the same room was
long ago—
you, who never once tried to
explain to me
your identity, as if
the inadmissibility
of language
was all you could need
for evidence.
You—
whom I know beyond
the darkest shadow
of reason
that I must love,
even though
your existence
I will never be able
to prove.
