Evaporate

I woke up this morning in an empty bed
With no trace, no imprint,
Of the memories that combed itself into the white sand of a Zen Garden

This morning I did not wake to water running in the bathroom,
Nor the sound of comfortable toes touring through a second home,
But instead to a sudden realization that I stand before myself powerless

I checked the bedside clock
But I only wanted to kill the messenger

I suddenly noticed the whiteness of the walls
And the litter of holes that once housed the pillars of a moment's happiness;
Holes that stared down at me with pitying eyes

The album was empty
And the carpet had lost its softness

It wasn't long before I was slapped by a cold wind coming from the open window,
That I was sure I had closed before we went to bed

I walked towards the windowsill

Peering down the path of the fallen,
I squinted, for I couldn't see to where it led.
I must have sat high among the tower, for such a fall would only unite one with death

The last grain of sand hit the bottom chamber
Before I realized

That
You
Were
Surely
Dead

I had been sleeping in a fantasy
In which reality had destroyed
Returning would be naive
As I lay deeply within void