Four Hundred and One days have passed
since last the word of “love” was shining.
Since my heart felt full and warm,
with no thought that things were dying or declining.
Three Hundred Eighty-Seven suns
since last our hands had touched.
T’is that duration when last I felt close enough
for someone to see me crying.
Just three days after that at Three Hundred Eighty-Four,
I recall the empty chair beside me
despite my inquisition and implore,
to which I could respond by only sighing.
Three Hundred and Fourteen days ago,
I thought I could seek my solace somewhere else.
But there was not a fire there,
I told myself to keep on trying.
Another three had passed to make Three Hundred and Eleven.
The end of any voice or text had come about that day.
I said this step was good, healthy. Heavens!
I told myself that time would then start flying.
Three Hundred and Seven days ago
I felt sure the wall would crumble.
I remember joking that you would break the silence and be humble.
I knew that I was lying.
Three Hundred and Forty-Five days ago, in celebration,
I prepared myself to respond with ire
at any attempt of cordial indignation
The night was empty. I grew tired.
Two Hundred and Seventy Two days before now,
Was the first that I had heard of Justin’s death.
I remember needing someone to talk to,
but none asked questions; no one prying.
Two Hundred and Thirty Five days since now
I felt a spark for someone unexpected,
But she was quite content without me
and I knew my well was drying.
Only Fifty-Nine days prior to this one,
I felt that things were perhaps smoothing then, and rounding.
As I told some guy online how it gets easy,
I wondered how convincing I was sounding.
Fourty-Six moons before this moon,
I imagined you at an outing.
I wondered if, like that morning ache,
I was in your head and pounding.
Thirty-Six: That is how many days have been,
Since one year ago my heart was proper, prim.
I sat and played my games and thought:
This is all so damn confounding.
Eight days ago, in recent times,
a friend reached out in need of grounding.
I had nothing to give but t’was the first time since,
That someone acknowledged my surroundings.
Zero days ago I found myself,
Driving through the suburbs.
I told myself, for real this time,
Tomorrow; I stop counting.