There is no equivalent
No refurbished measurements
There are no realignments
Empty means having nothing inside; no elements
I wish I could hide behind the curtain of grief.
Rearrange the wilting flowers,
Repaint the colors of the pictures,
Write all the words I never actually wrote; thinking there was more time
Instead,
I am swerving through the currents of the day
Watching the sun rise,
Typing hollow words into a phone
Seeing the world through a broken prism
My hand still reaches for yours when the ground seems unsafe
And my eyes still wander to the door, thinking you will enter
But what has been the hardest thing of all,
Is I cannot rearrange time
Stand at the easel and paint your life again
And give it a different end
