By now, it’s an open secret
that I made you up, worked you
until you were real enough
for what I needed. You were ready
to serve when called upon and
although you never drew
breath in simple daylight,
I could hear you breathing
in my sleep, which is where
we were all three most awake.
Yesterday, wide awake,
I thought I heard you
in the neighbor’s yard.
You were moving in
together, sisters, roommates,
and neither of you thought
to knock on the door
and tell me you were here,
and I tried to speak with you
but you couldn’t hear me.
I tell myself
that’s it’s natural,
the order of things.
I tell myself
there was nothing more
I could have done
for you, or you for me.
I know you’ve moved on
and forgotten me; I know
too much about what I put into you
to believe
it could have been otherwise.
Still, there are nights
when I stand up and read
what I wrote about you
to other people,
and for those minutes
we’re still family
and I realize
there’s a better man in there
than there is out here.
Dark Matter 