The light

This piece is about the suffering that can be inflicted by losing someone.

The light is sieved through

an expression of sorrow,

an absent place setting,

an empty plate,

and on days when forgetting

seems a balm

and I do not weep

for want of you

I smile

and mark them down

as the best days of my life,

but they are few

and getting fewer

as white hairs colonise

what is left of my hair

and the right side of my bed grows larger,

large enough to sink this raft of self

that bobs on an ocean

as vast as forever,

as thin as a stalk of celery

and made all the more

unbearable by my memories

of you.