The Tapestry
I go to move the clock on your nightstand, but hesitate.
That’s where you always liked it, so I leave it in place.
Should I clear the things from your vanity?
Your lipstick, eye liner, perfume, hair brush?
You have lined them up like little soldiers, just the way you like them.
Where should I begin or should I?
I bury my face in your pillow and absorb you before your essence evaporates.
I reach over to touch you but find emptiness instead.
Like the emptiness in my heart, the emptiness in our bed
Reminds me that you are gone and I am alone.
Alone - what a terrifying word. Abandoned - even more so.
Time never stands still, never retreats, never forgives
It just moves forward, second by second, accumulating
Marching toward unhappy anniversaries often replacing our happy ones.
But time also heals, puts distance between us and our tragedies
That will eventually fade into the past, not forgotten, but softened.
I think I will begin unraveling the threads in our tapestry
The tapestry woven with our memories and I will begin to weave a new one.
Not now, not yet, perhaps someday. Not now, not yet.
Copyright © Philip Mygatt | Year Posted 2019
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