They said it was inconclusive,

like it didn’t matter,

reduced to a number,

you were never here.

I remember the madness tree

where we danced in the rain, laughing

at the man shouting ‘two pound for a poncho’.

Overseas, drifting in a mountain pool,

we watched a marmalade sun set,

brim full of the desire

to never return home.

That time we emerged from

a sea of humans 

like lobsters, pink and sweating,

hoping the buzz would last a bit longer…

It won’t say you mattered in the files,

or tell the world that

I’m still here with the music,

dancing for two.