I want to talk about
cold mornings and empty bed
and futile attempts to fill the day
that is damned to nothingness since awakening.
I want to talk about
the lonely cup on the kitchen table
and the view to the garden where flowers don't bloom
because Autumn frost decided to love them.
I want to talk about
children clamor in my street
and innocent games of hide and seek
where they always find each other.
I want to talk about
walks by the water at sunset
when the whole city gets quiet under the night's blanket
and that newly created unpleasant silence.
I want to talk about
how much of nothing happened
since you've been gone.
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