v u l v a l i c i o u s
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:
and this emptiness is about the same as the ones i've felt before. which should unsettle me, but doesn't.
leaves you shaking your head and telling me
but listen, it's just.
these are not lovers i have
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.