Alone

            I loved alone
            the broken heart,
            and cradled in my palms
            the hours dropped by time
            and cruel absurdity.
            I thought to breathe.
            I thought to kindle all the hours lone.
            Were they not as sad as I?
            But blown away
            by my cool breath,
            they flew into
            the empty air,
            and I was left
            alone.
            Where have the hours flown and fallen?
            If only I had warmth to give,
            perhaps I'd see their spark—
            a sign—
            I am not lost
            to time.