the breakfast we never ate...
our bed still warm
waiting for the spoons to return
a voice
your little voice…
the table’s weight crashes to the ground…
none of this will return to what it once was
your small tears can not fix this broken bowl
one song on repeat
at least its a good one i think…
new bowls
other things to fill them...
how soon we have forgotten
the bed that wasn’t ready to let us go
tears and laughter
we are broken
our day has just begun.