when it was ok
the shoes you wore, older black
didn’t matter. They were just shoes.
Today, this grey day
they’re a trip you took without me
a place your hands touched that wasn’t me.
That house was just a house until
a few days ago
aging creaking siding peeling.
Today, this moment, it’s a shrine
to lives which began there, flourished
even if it only was for seconds.
My hands were just hands
not so long ago
til I remembered your lips on my fingers
the hard temperature of your palms
how they lingered.
My heart, well
not so long ago it
floated out for you, buoyed by love and pleasure
safety and the ragged beams of us.
Now, it’s just another place you aren’t.