Every day finds me
buried beneath the sediment
of another day without you
morning comes
heavy with yesterday
the hours gather
like stones in my pockets
somewhere beneath my skin
the world is still turning
but I am still
in the room
where time stopped
I have appointments
and forms
and ordinary things
to remember
I have a face to wear
a voice to find
a body to carry
through the business of living
one for the morning
two for the pretending
three for the weight
of getting through
and underneath
the noise
the movement
the passing of hours
there is you
always you
the little boy
whose absence takes up
more space than anything
that ever filled a room
I answer when spoken to
I smile when required
I make it through
the necessary motions
roll call
present
yes
but also
somewhere else entirely
beneath the years
beneath the days
beneath the ordinary
and unbearable weight
of being here
still holding
the exact moment
the world lost you
and I lost
the world
I knew đź’”
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