Dead Poet

I am empty
colored red
with a sight of sorrow
settled quiet in my paper skin
with your name
and your photograph all over me
i drop a line
squeeze a teacupful grin
and stir the last hints within me
to conjure up a future of us together.

i am a sad poet
cajoled into still life
and loneliness evades me
within a blurred distance
where you become an impression
in a shallow depth of field
and i become the focus of a ruthless eye.