You're not really gone

My mind chooses not to register
what has blatantly unfolded
during these last chapters
of a story so jaded.

That black and gold circle
has hushed their chant,
looking somberly towards the ground
I think resting place
and I start to pant.

That mat is lonely
without your familiar loud tone,
two figures wade back and forth
to make a strike,
those eyes piercing steadily,
and I think of a silent team
while feeling faint.

The veins in my hands pop,
sweaty, swollen fingertips
by my sides,
but that hand felt so cold to my lips,
making my stomach spin.

The Hawkeyes reign in our eyes,
bellowing the Fight song,
but piercing my ears
from the loneliest walk down that aisle,
I run in circles
leaving no time to think.

Because I can't think about
how love wasn't enough
or the call of a voice depleting
or the jolting faces upon family
or the hood as a shield
or that collective smell
or "There was this woman"
or Hesper Forever starting now.

I do love you--
I hope you knew,
I hope you can see,
I hope your heart healed.