v u l v a l i c i o u s empty spaces 2013-01-14 // 5:29 p.m. the house has gone hushed, just the sound of the cats at their bowls. collars clinking onto the metal. the white noise of the fan recycling the air. there is an empty space next to me, too large to be filled by the dog that gently snores or the cup of tea I have balanced there. you're gone. you're gone and i should say: i want you back. i'd like that, please. and this emptiness is about the same as the ones i've felt before. which should unsettle me, but doesn't. disquiets you instead, yes. leaves you shaking your head and telling me how much you don't understand that it could be this way. but listen, it's just. these are not lovers i have (yes they are) these are pieces of my heart (my heart, so big, can hold so much) and I want to promise you that there's enough, but this space keeps telling me you won't believe it. there's more i could say but no time. i leave a kiss on the inside of your palm and hope that's enough. back-forth