“On being alone”

By Abby

A day sounds like such a simple thing.

A single day.

Do it all myself.

But somehow I can’t.

You left this morning, kissed me tenderly.

“I’ll be back in 36 hours,” you say. A blink of an eye, I think.

Yet here I am, standing in the middle of the room, at a loss of what to do.

I could wash.

I could dream.

I could cook.

I could write.

Staring at the floor, nothing appealing.

The desire just isn’t there.

It seems to have left with you.

Deciding on a simple task, it seems empty.

Do I even think for myself?

Is my mind your mind, that once you are gone,

My thoughts fly with you?