grief
i miss you. everyday i hold your ashes and hope i will see you when i turn the corner. but i won't, and i know that. it doesn't hurt any less.
when i look at your urn from across the living room the air goes stale. the kitchen floor is the grave of our shared life. this place is no longer comfortable. i stay in my bedroom because it hurts less, but i am still reminded of you in everything.
seven years was not enough.