The hem of his cologne was caught in the air
Untainted and familiar, but thin
Thin enough to see the shadow of my fingers
Through its thundercloud-hued material
As I reached out for the floating hem
Longing for relief from my affliction,
eyes uplifted
Requesting a miracle for my hemorrhaging heart
I grasped it between my fingers

There was
Nothing

No strength rushed into me
No relief from my ache was granted
My un-healable emptiness remained
What further confirmation did I need
That he is not a savior
Still, perhaps it’s my lacking faith.