Void

Funny how the one place you call home

becomes a fully-furnished hole.

Some sort of indescribable void that goes deeper,

more abysmal with each familiar steps.

Filled with empty shadows of conversations 

that stretches through the night.

Blurry visions of faces, mementos, and traces of laughter that echoed long.

Softly gone.

Silently silenced.

Different as it may be

And different as it may feel,

You chose to stay.

Because, in truth, you find comfort in this crippling familiarity.

In truth, you relish whatever faint memory that lingered.

All because those empty chairs and broken plates

are remnants and pieces of a past you cannot let go of.

Not now.

Not yet.

But...

In the distant future,

when the spaces remain spacious

and the memories fade into oblivion,

You'll set the fire yourself,

sip a bit of coffee,

and watch the chaotic beauty turn into ashen dust.

And you'll wonder why you haven't burned it sooner.