The house is empty when I come home
I don’t get greeted by the door or followed to bed
My clothes are neatly stacked where I left them
there is no mess in the kitchen 
it feels hollow yet heavy 
Like if I called out to you
Your echo would answer back
Sometimes for a split second I forget 
but reality is bitter and my memory is harsh 
and I am hit by it all again
you are gone 
You’re whole life spent 
and I’m left to wish things were different