empty space

There is a hole in the world where my friend used to be.

An empty space.

It leaves flotsam in its wake. A name and photo at the top of my message list. I can’t erase that. I won’t erase that. But that space will never contain a voice again.

After arriving in San Antonio, I took a look around and said, Fuck’s sake, I got here just in time.

I was wrong.

I did not get here in time.

I was too late.

My friend is gone.

And Grief is at my door. Again.

Fuck you, Grief. You are a bad guest.