Rosalind, with the bedroom of her heart (blackout poetry)

Another year is over, another year is done,

I’m still standing where you left me, stranded,

All alone in a world without you, my sun,

The ring’s still on my finger, but I’m left empty handed.

I’ve always wondered

What it’s like to be myself

Openly and honest

And not hiding behind bookshelves

Waiting for someone to see

And let me into their heart.

A guy is knocking

My neighbor is doing Duolingo across the street,

He’s in his sixties learning a new language

And I’m just eating leftovers, watching him,

Wondering if he’s practicing French for his husband.