Erica Buckner Poet I do not know?

Never the Same

One empty seat on the couch.
One empty side of the bed.
One empty seat in the car.
All of the guest are full of dread.

Glancing at my Grandmother,
I'm hurting inside.
I hate to see the tears
that are swelling up in her eyes.

I look at my Mother,
I can feel her pain.
Inside I realize,
the house will never be the same.

I glance at my Uncle,
I can feel the missing spot
that was once filled.

I glance at the empty side of the couch.
In my mind I can still see him sitting there.
I can hear his laughter.
I can hear the love in his voice 
when he spoke to my Grandmother.

On the stand next to his empty seat,
I see the gun.
Inside I cry out in hurt and rage
as I pray to God
That things would soon be the same.

I wish I knew what drove him to the point
of suicide.
I wish my Grandpa was still here.

It's all I dream,
I repeat to myself.
It's all a dream,
This is not real.
 When I open my eyes
I will see him.
Sitting in his spot on the couch.

I open my eyes.
I start to cry.
The empty spot
is still there.
The living room is still 
full of pain.
Creating an atmosphere 
full of misery.

This place I call home
will never be the same.

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