This describes for the me feeling when the world stops for me personally due to whatever event or reason, but oddly seems to continue as normal for the rest of the world. It is a strange dissonance that is created where everything reminds you of what once was.
I sat on the back steps, your sweater
Draped across my lap.
The smell of you permeated
The worn fabric. A cold
Reminder of what once had been.
The porch light crackled, blinked, then
Somehow managed to find
The strength to go on.
Oddly soothing were the distant voices,
That rose and fell, then rose and
Fell again. All the while I sat
On the back steps, your sweater
Draped across my lap – waiting.
Just waiting. My hand running
Nervously through my hair;
Eyes focused intently
On the old oak tree – as though
It contained the answers.
As though it could give wise counsel
To those who sat and waited.
But there are no answers.
No reasons, no theories, no sudden findings;
No explanations.
Losing you was all there was.
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