October 13, 2003
I look for you in the hills and meadows
and only find fields of dead grass
that have been trampled on by people
who fell over in their search for Eden.
I try to find you in the trees,
but all I see are crippled brown leaves
ready to end their life.
I listen for your voice,
but all I hear are my own quiet thoughts,
talking over the loudness of your silence.
I sniff the clothes in your closet
which still smell of Chanel No. 5,
but you’ll never wear it again.
My tears can no longer run fast enough to keep up with every moment you’re gone.