I stop by your abandoned house for one last time
And the inside is devoid of the life that once filled it
Making it home.
The picture frames are cracked and falling off the wall
Like the memories they hold
And your smile, once wide, is now faded and dusty.
As I enter the kitchen
Where you once held me and called me pet
I noticed Grandads calendared pills still remain on the bench.
Meanwhile, the living room feels skeletal
With the bookshelf and cabinet both empty
And no cat hiding under the dinner table hungrily mewing.
The house smells moth-like
Just the way I remember
Which is comforting.
I miss this place
But more than anything
I miss you.