We built the cabinets in which they lived
How can we fully understand the lawn which grows
And grows
And grows
Without your tender palms to tell the flowers to grow as tall as they can
Will they begin to flourish in the spring ?
With the bed unmade
And the dishes in the sink
I've been standing here
Idle in this house we shared
How could we possibly come to terms with the molding of the wooden picture frames placed on the bed side table
How they are so often glanced atCried over
How they melt in the winter and re grow in the spring
Like the flowers who need your hands
Like the coffee mugs who miss the greeting of your lips
Like the dishes that stay in the sink
Because I refuse to touch anything you left behind
How will I come to terms with the reality I live?
It's distant inconvenience has intruded my vision
Welcomed itself into the closet we shared
Ripped apart your clothes and tore every dress of its hanger
Smeared its smile on the mirror I can't look in
What will the flowers do without your hands?
