Known To Be Left (Left Behind)

Mirrored in absence
known, felt,  
the one shot taken, unremoved.  
I unbutton my blouse  
to find him whole, a pitcher of cream  
soured, undrank,    
left behind by my thirstless heart,  
tears lifted by Mercy's angel from it,  
and him, gone.  
   
I remember his backside the most vividly,  
I could not swim far enough to reach  
and pull him back to me    
through an eyelet of my hopefulness.  
I could not repair the dying love for him.  
   
I remain untouched, ashamed of my pitted skin  
above where my own heart had been,  
all along in faith,    
laughing on the outside as    
naked with the clothed,  
slowly coming undone.  
   
I die inside the    
insect-bitten flesh of his leaving,  
no longer known best by anyone,  
broken free from having been known.  
   
        .....  
   
#SharonOlds  
   
(A non-entry)