I woke up today
opening my eyes
to my room
I roll over
to unoccupied space
in a queen sized bed
scooting over it
and swinging my legs
off the side of the bed
onto the floor
so cold
shuffling into the bathroom
just a morning toilette
teeth brushed
vitamins taken
face washed
everything in its place
and yet still
there's something missing
confusion begins
to tickle my mind
so I hurry
ignoring the whisper
in the clutter
going into the hall
to the kitchen
for my breakfast
but its strange here too
too quiet
so cold
I grab something from the fridge
that I can eat on the way to work
hurrying away
from the silent echo
of this house
but it's just the same
when I come back
empty in its fullness
for everything I own
is in its place
perfectly arranged
like it's always been
and yet
it's still there
the emptiness
sort of like an ache
when I work out too hard
which reminds me
with purpose I go into my room
and grab my sneakers
I'm trying too hard
not to notice it
but when I sit down on the bed
I know
I know what it is
that's haunting me
an empty ghost
in a house full of me
just me
only me
alone
a single tear
the only evidence of the flood
that is closed in my throat
and I finish tying my shoes
dashing the tear from my face
with a hasty hand
that grabs the keys
closes the door
locks it
and then I run
I run hard into the street
down the sidewalk
past the neighbors
the children playing
the cars and the noise
I leave it all behind
heading for the place
that soothes me
enclosed in the trees of the park
I can think
but today
I'm not thinking
I'm feeling
feeling the hole
where my life used to be
when I was fulfilled
with what I was doing
and it was enough
but now
it's like I was cut
opened up
scooped out
left hollow
and that hollow spot
leaves an ache
that feels a lot
like loneliness
like a full house
of just me
like a made bed
with no one else in it
today I woke
to a small life
a life that is mine
and only mine
haunted by a ghost
a silent dream
and the unmade memories
of [you].