It's not the stillness of the mornings
or the nights that stretch too long,
not the silence in the hallway
or in the memories that linger on.
It’s not the scent of your perfume fading,
or finding strands of your grey hair,
it's not the teacup on the table waiting
or the full cushions on your vacant chair.
The hardest part, I understood too late,
it isn't counting the days apart
but in the permanence of your absence,
and this persistant ache in my heart.
It's not the missing, or the longing,
or in your presence that we lack,
but with a heavy understanding
that you are never coming back.
©️Lizzie Bevis
