sometimes my first thought is still you
but it is dull now
like a toothache

sometimes my mind says your name
in the same tone it uses
for poetry

sometimes i sit in bookshops
and catch the ghost
of your lily perfume

but it is a distant thought
a faraway noise
an ephemeral scent

and it is like you are here, yet not
as if you are sharing your essence
with another plane of existence

barely here in your translucence
you sit between realms
equidistant over the edge

it is okay, my love
you can let go now
i am not where you left me.