Two Months After You Left

 

I am vanishing incrementally
losing pieces of places
I have outgrown or
am tired of bearing.

Meals come
from cans without labels
eventually joining others overlaid
on the kitchen counter.

Eschewing the bedroom
with unraveled clothes
I sleep in a chair with half
empty bottles
that let me slip slowly
from reality.

Today I found
an empty picture frame shattered
at the end of the hallway

and dropped down
crying
because it was alone.

From the forthcoming Shattered Anthology to be published by Kind of a Hurricane Press.

Update: Unfortunately Kind of a Hurricane Press is closed indefinitely, and the rights to this poem have been returned to me.

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