“After”
You were here
now you’re not.
The days go on — appointments,
groceries,
small talk.
People ask how I’m doing I say, fine.
Grief is quieter than I expected.
It’s in forgetting you’re gone
then remembering again. It’s in wanting to tell you something
and stopping halfway through.
I don’t cry every day. Mostly, I just carry it — this strange
heavy
absence —
like a bag I didn’t mean to pick up
but can’t seem to put down.

Published by Jeff

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