The Morning After…

by Janis Gaines

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The sun shone through the cracks of the curtains like it was any other day. Outside I could see the familiar shapes of trees and landscape, the neighbor’s house across the street. I lay in bed, unable to move. I was at once both empty and angry. I had nothing left to say in my fight with fate who had taken my lover from me far too soon. Grief had poisoned me, and yet if I could raise my voice, my fist, I would blot out the sun, erase the arrogance of anything that mocks the vacant place beside me, this sacred space where her shape was so familiar. Her scent is still on the pillows, and I inhale her like a deaf and blind mute, with no other senses left to discern what is real any more.

© October 15, 2013
Asheville, NC

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