nothing left of you

i visited your room every day and laid on the floor,
as to not taint your bed.

it stayed exactly as you left it that morning,
an imprint lingering on the sheets,
where your body last rested,
the last remaining piece of you that i could have.

i touched nothing in your bedroom,
i didn’t want to disturb your order.

i had never spent so much time in your room until you were gone.
when we moved house,
there was no need for another bedroom.
and suddenly, there was nothing left of you,
no place to visit,
no place you could ever possibly be.

Author's Note

i let my mind run and the inertia just keeps going