it’s the after-missing that’s hard:
realizing you have all these things to share and knowing
you no longer can; almost like
a house you once shared- the ease in which things have
taken their place by your routine;
the umbrella behind the door, the newspaper on the
right corner of the table, the keys in the jar,
now sit oddly out of place in nooks and corners,
carelessly thrown and left.
in your absence, i learn to love things in a lonely way,
find quiet joys in things we would once have marvelled at
in your absence, i learn to love others,
this new possibility, this opening up. this slowly drifting of
in your absence, i finally learn that things will be okay
even without you around.