Moving On

The room is empty
and his piles of boxes removed.
But I can still feel
the chaos
sweep over me as I wade
through this battlefield.

I feel the bruises of the walls
and the scars of the
floorboards
Still haunted by his ghost.
Our ghosts.

Like some absurd picture show
I see every moment replayed
in slow motion as our pale
reflections stumble over the room.

Witness our first minutes together.
Happiness. Love. Hope.
Our first kiss by the bay window.
The phantoms crumple the bed sheets.

But then the bones of the room were shattered
by arguments. Anger. Crash!
My heart falls to the floor and
smashes like lightening.
And our spectres bleed
into each other like watercolours.

You are suffocating the room.

And it is silently hurting;
it cannot let go of the memories
locked in the plaster.

Just what this world needs.
Another broken heart.

Cross-legged in the centre.
Watch the clock.
Praying that with each second
the time of healing is closer.

Then feel your hand on my shoulder
And free-fall safely into your arms.