An empty chair. An unfinished book. A plate of food left half eaten. Everywhere I go, these half finished things remind me of you. Remind me of the life that was swiped from underneath you. Like the knife cutting the air, you were cut out of my life, just like that.

My head is full of clouds, dark, black rainclouds that rain all day long, blocking every other thought except you. You’re gone, but...