one thing you've learnt from the wars you have fought
was that when one life sparks out,
the rest of the world will keep on going.

but you keep on waking up,
expecting to see him by his side of the bed
with his immaculate blond hair and that wrinkle between his brows that won't ever go away--
because how can he not be there
when his scent strongly lingers still?

you keep on making tea for two,
expecting him to walk down the stairs
with the graceful strides you have long since associated with him--
because why wouldn't he do so
when his favorite mug sits by the dinner table still?

you keep on announcing an "i'm home" to an empty house,
expecting to hear a voice from the kitchen saying:
"i made dinner" or that rare "i brought takeout"--
because how can that not be
when his dress shoes lie by the entrance door still?

one thing you've learnt from the wars you have fought
was that when one life sparks out,
the rest of the world will keep on going.

another thing you've learnt:
you can't keep on going.


(but you have to.
because "he wouldn't have wanted this for you".)