another day (in absentia)

The dark smudges under my eyes have become far too familiar, a reminder in my reflection of too many sleepless nights.

I can’t escape your absence when you’re gone. No matter how much I try to fill every space, to possess the whole bed, I can’t hide the emptiness. When I wake in the night I reach for the shadow of your presence, and I delay my retirement each night for the reluctance to embrace my solitude along with the blankets.

Mornings I don’t mind, content with my coffee and the pattern of the day, but evenings this place feels neglected, and I bury myself in the computer and the company it brings. Occasionally I summon the motivation to actually cook, rather than living from cans and packets once the leftovers run out, but the meal is never as pleasant unshared. The dishes are left to motivate themselves into cleanliness.

What gets you through when I’m not around, when you’re left with the echoes and empty walls?