Leaving
Ever so slowly - the leaving.
Tiny spaces appearing between us
creating the void only you could fill.
And as the sun turns to the moon
a transfer of why day turns to night,
hiding the real reasons why you felt so heavy.
The feel of drowning isn’t exclusive to the darkest water
but is shared with emptiness,
including this room we once called home.
The leaving defined us
by tracing around all the hurt caught beneath the skin.
A raw itching, a burning
which never could be cured, with a touch of happiness -
because it wasn’t there,
beneath the faded sheet, within the tattered pillow
which now lays alone here.
Together we were apart
keeping close what needed space
until the leaving - when you could breath no more.
Image by Oleg Oprisco