It is an odd feeling to wake up everyday and know
That the person you once knew everything about,
Is walking around now…

Breathing, eating, sleeping, having ***, going to work, coming home,
They do these things without you now, they know you too, they know the lines in your hands and the freckle patterns on your arms.
They know what wakes you at night and puts you too sleep.


You haven’t spoken to them.
You know them as they were then, the sun in their hair, the constant look of anger, but the warmth and security of their arms. The reassurance of their words. Their quiet footsteps even in a loud crowded room.

You knew them by smell and by the feeling that would come over a room when they were around

Now you only know of them, of their existence.
You no longer know them, or the way they take their coffee. Or how much they like to drink.

If you saw them in public place, your eyes could only flicker to them for a moment, and then away again.
they are just a something passing by, someone you say ‘excuse me’ too as you move out of their way,
a mild inconvenience on the highway,
the reason for you reading the same page over and over again,


they walk out and you feel it again
the feeling that rises in your throat,
the instinct to call out, to fix, to love.

They are just something imprinted in you but no longer yours.

You are…
A changing of a season, a newly formed butterfly breaking out of the cocoon.
Your wings are wet and you are afraid,
The world is so full of walking voids.