Things are much different now.
Quieter.
Like the soft close of a closet door.
Or a whisper in endless space.
Not necessarily empty.
But hollow all the same.
There’s an echo here.
Does anyone else hear it?
I could hold the silence in my hand.
Something so simple and delicate.
Begging to be broken,
But protected by the fear of consequence.
Your name is everywhere.
Every song, every memory, every word.
I try to keep my balance as I collide with you
On the edge of forgiveness and forgetting.
I wish that I hated you.
That your voice wasn’t interlaced in my own.
That I liked who I was without you now.
That I knew who I am without you.
Like the fading of a far off siren,
Or the chill of a sudden breeze.
Things are different now.
Quieter.