It’s all the little things
and how they fall into the intervals
of day-to-day living, of you
and your countenances.
They arrange themselves around me,
not saying the things I knew you would say
because your absence fills its place,
being where you may have been,
knowing you’d pick this piece or that
and sometimes wondering which piece at all?
For all these open spaces without you —
are filled with you —
like cream cheese,
like the fragrance of rain in the air,
like the sound of your quiet laughter filling in
the canals of time.
Listening to the things you said before,
Watching the way you’d state facts about the day,
Holding on to the way we used to meet in the past,
I’m recreating experiences, just for the familiarity of it all
Of putting you here, when you’re not,
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