"I have a bruise on my calf from the grip of your hand.
My tongue is still patchy with roasted flesh from when I burnt it on that tea on friday.
There is a stain on my shirt from the cranberry vodka I spilt on myself shaking with laughter in your lap.
I had to slip off the sneakers I wore today because you tied them so well when I asked you to.
I find receipts and tickets.
From trains and planes we've slept on in awkward positions.
You are gone.
And all of these things are still here.
Resonating like a single note through the static mess I call a head.
You are gone.
And all of these things are still here.
And I'm swallowing hard down a throat,
that is sore from all the "I love you"s I choked through my sobs last night.
Through lips that have slivers of pink tissue missing,
from biting back the "I need you"s I couldn't say.
And all of these things are still here."
- but you are gone.