False Hope

“Will I see her again?” I cry as she moves off. Nobody answers.

“Will I see it again?” I ask as my suitcase (marked with name, address) is added to the pile.

“Will I see it again?” I whisper as my ring is slid off my finger.

Nobody answers. Nobody answers.

It will grow back again, I think, as my hair falls to the floor.

Will I see daylight again, I wonder, as we jostle for space.

Yes, there, I can see the sky. And at that moment, that small square of light in the ceiling is everything to me.