Return

I stand in the entrance

to the Tate Modern;

my heart is beating like a drum

and I cannot move.

But the world did not end

nor did the heavens open

as I had thought. You are still

not here and I am still alone

alone as I was five minutes

earlier when I entered the building.

The world keeps on turning

just as I keep on breathing

and you keep on not being here

any more.