We All Don't Live Here Anymore

I hear you in the creaks of this old house.
Your smell still lingers.
I feel your presence.
Yet you are not here.
Empty rooms represent my empty heart.
We all don’t live here anymore.
This house is no longer a home.
That ceased the moment you left.
Nothing is the same.
Nothing makes sense.
I look for you around every corner.
Still all I hear are the creaks.
Shuffles on the floorboards of repeated steps of the past.
That will not be heard in the future.
The silence takes getting used to.
All I hear is your voice in my dreams.
A regular deja vu.
Waking up to be reminded that you’re no longer here.
Grasping at cracked memories.
Desperately wanting to glue back the pieces together.
Anything to make this house a home.

-Asia Aneka Anderson, We All Don’t Live Here Anymore 2016©