You would think there would be some remnant left,
but death was simple.
You were there and then you weren’t.
After one deep ragged breath
you were so gone that even your body
seemed to miss you. That stillness
so irrevocable. So not right.
Our friends all came
to see the place where you had been,
to fill the void.
It was a full-packed house–
your sons, their wives, your daughter–
eight of us filling out every hollow corner.
I slept in the bed meant for two,
trying to convince myself I was enough–
trying to fill in the space you left.
That empty cup.
The Prompt: Cut Off–When was the last time you felt completely, truly lonely?