Crease free sheets and cold coffee cups,

A room hollowed out and clothes untouched,

In place of a body or a hand or a heart,

Is nothing but dust and worn faded cloth,

Time heals at slow pace and repairs the broken things,

She mends worn out cords and stitches open cavities.

For a while all is upheaved and the room tidies itself,

The clothes end up on other bodies and the world is freshly turned.

One might think all is forgotten and everything has righted itself,

That perhaps careful illusion can mask tragedy and loneliness is deftly felt.

But

When night falls quick and loudness breaks to silence,

The absence is keenly felt, but now that gaps can be refilled.