You should be dead
to haunt the living
the empty chair at my table
the meals I eat alone.
The candle flickers
from a whisper
unheard by anyone
but me.
It is the emptiness you leave
the open space
in my heart
where the rain falls in .
The vast expanse of the Arctic
bedclothes always
cold.
The laughter unechoed
the thought held and
worried smooth by silence.
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