TRP - 512 days
- Apr 13
- 1 min read
And your bed is still unmade
The couch memorized your shape
Your perfume hanging in quiet mornings
The shoes waiting by the door
512 days
An empty chair
One less plate
Seven where there used to be eight
One laugh dissolved in the air
512 days
The ache hasn't softened
The hug I kept waiting for at graduation finds me in my dreams
Your voice trapped between rings
A bright smile taped to the lamp shade
512 days
Without our walks
Without your jokes
Without you
With a knot in my throat
Just like a thick layer of dust covering the little light left
512 nights
Your absence leaves a trail of blood and tears
Right where the ones 512 days ago spilled.