She died.
She had to die to me,
for if she had not died,
which she still is in
the process of doing
in me,
I would not be
the person, I
need to be —
not someone selfish,
grasping, seeing only
her with me,
(no one else to see)
that which could
no longer be,
but a lover —
compassionate
toward others
as she was
towards me
(as I remember her
mostly to be in her
humanity)
which lives in me,
and then me
with thee and thee
and, Thee,
and all of these
which are in me
and I in these
and I had to
make room
for Thee.
And when I did,
Surprise! You
were already
there.