For the purposes of this poem,
I shall pretend I really care
There is a you-shaped hole in the universe
And a cold spot on this chair.
For the moment, I will suspend
My disbelief in ghosts
And patronise your memory
By praying to the holy hosts.
For I feel neither pain nor grief,
Though I feign a simulation
Of how I think I am supposed to behave;
Is it a failure of imagination?
For I said I could not contemplate
A life without you near,
Yet I love having a double bed to myself
And a refrigerator full of beer.
For when the time came to let you go,
There was nothing in your eyes;
No last words, no final kiss,
Just a look of mild surprise.
For I have no evidence of a spirit world,
There is no sense of your departure;
Like you, I am a body without a soul
And there is numbness ever after.
