A place where you once resided
is now a tiny, gaping hole.
Since you left,
your absence has caused so much discomfort.
An impulsive sting in my head,
a twinge in my jaw,
and a disarray on my demeanor, that
not even the flesh and bone
you held on to,
can possibly endure.
Since you left,
I lost the will to eat.
Not even my favorite food
made it down
my throat.
But isn’t it ironic?
That even in your absence,
sooner or later, someone tougher,
and permanent would fill
the tiny, gaping hole you once left.
