I reached my hand out,
an outline of flesh against off-white walls,
in a familar way in a familiar place.
An unfamiliar absence became,
and sat beside me,
strummed the chords of my
lonely, lonely
heart.
It wept for me,
as I could not weep for myself
in an empty place with ony my demons
for company.
It cried tears onto my shoulders
and I raised my head towards the ceiling,
an expression of understanding
and lament for all the lost days.
The grieving process for loss is long and painful…take good care…your poem reflects grief well.