Vacuum

I feel the still air that should dance with your laughter. I feel the empty touch of your fingers reaching for my hand. I feel your absent warmth all around me. I feel your missing smile that tells me that everything has to be alright because we have each other. I feel the vacuum that you have left in your wake.

Vacuum isn't nothing. It is the absence of something.

When you were next to me, I'd stretch every moment just a bit longer, to savor it, and to hold on to it, so I could relive it and fill this vacuum. Only, this vacuum does not get filled, it gets hollower every time I try to fill it.