11 pm, flopping down,
the air is stale,
the pillow exhales loudly.
Breathing in with expectation
of her smell, rewarded
with sneeze and cough.
My mind makes a
false memory and tells
me she is still here.
Forcing a smile at
my ability to still
believe, knowing I lie.
The air is stale,
her smell is gone.
© Jeremiah Stillings – 2018
Author Notes: This was written after watching God’s Promise to me walk out of my life.
