Timeless Space

It’s been a day, a week, but who’s counting?

The hours and minutes have been a blur,

Melding together like thickly matted fur.

There are moments that are lucid,

When the view is mellow and clear.

Then the clouds set in,

More often than not, chaotic and grim.

The days feel too short, while the nights painfully long.

Hour after hour, the waking spell plays it song.

The memories play so clearly against the sky,

Over and over, until the tears run dry.

When the day breaks, I reach for a comforting sign.

Heart breaking once more when reality does not align.

There is no reaching you, wherever you are.

You have made it so very clear, you are staying away, extremely far.

I search my space, and forlornly, I think,

What do I do now with all of these things?

These items we both cherished of you and me,

Do they mean so little to you now, the memories they keep?

What do I do when love and loss is all I have left?

How to pick up the pieces as easily as the way you went?

To pack them now is a different kind of ache, resonating to my very core.

Every piece you asked me to keep holds a memory, a moment,

The image of love, of joy, and a lot more.

So perhaps not now, not tomorrow, not today,

Maybe, one day, you’ll find these at your door,

Or, just maybe, again, I might delay.

From all of you to none of you, in the blink of an eye.

As far as stories go, there is no quicker way for a heart to die.