You have been gone about 6 weeks. Your clothes are in the closet. I sleep under your blankets, I wear your clothes. I am rummaging through boxes of stuff that does not matter, but I can't throw anything away. I am clinging to your things, trying to hold on to pieces of you. Am I insane? Why do I want your old box of wooden dominoes that's missing two? Or endless, random pins, keychains, books, marbles, dice? I don't want these things because I like or need them. Only because they are your things.
Why does my heart feel like it's going to explode?