Empty Chair

4

A meditation on the small, everyday reminders of absence and the weight of unfinished routines.

the dishes in the sink,
are three days old now,
i keep meaning to wash them,
but your fingerprints are still there;

the coffee machine hums,
its morning song to no one,
while your mug collects dust,
in its usual corner;

i tried sleeping on your side,
of the bed last night,
but the sheets felt wrong,
against my skin;

the calendar on the wall,
still shows last month,
because moving forward,
means accepting you’re gone;