Who am I— without you?
  If I’m not
     a quiet pulse
          beneath your chaos;
     a steady moon
          that tugs your tides.

Who am I— without you?
  As if I’m the
     roots holding the earth firm
          without rise in a tree;
     brush strokes on a canvas
          missing the acrylic paint.

Who am I—
  since we are not mirrors,
          but the wild stars in the same sky.

Without you?
  I spin,
          unanchored in the dark.