Missing Pages

You were an open book with pages ripped out.

Hid them from the world, yet they were found,

Buried them in the ground, and they still haunted you.

You set them a flame but the writing remained etched across your face,

I read them in the facial expressions you would make and the words you would not speak,

And in the sunlight each word was clearly written

You disappeared when you discovered what I knew.

Now I only see you in visions when you visit me,

And in the reflections that dance in the water beneath me as I stand alone and embrace the chill of letting you go.