Meal for one

There is food in my cupboard
but I can’t be bothered to cook,
there are corners of my subconscious
in which I dare not look;
there is a space in my bedroom
once filled by your favourite chair,
your un-ironed clothes gone
I never knew we had
a small table there;
there is a towel in my bathroom
that still holds faint your perfume;
there is a bus stop
near where you live,
I know, I stand,
I miss you.

© Copyright D. Archer October 2011 

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