The Littlest Things

You didn’t close the cupboard door

upon your departure

and I wonder why that is,

as my eyes prick with tears.

Is it so, in closing it, I feel you

where you last were,

the contours of the brass,

your spine curved around mine.

Is it so I’m reminded that our future

is ajar,

not fully open or closed

but a breath holding in between;

a tight chest maybe.

Is it so I convince myself

you’re still here,

your shoes still there;

you are just elsewhere.

Is it so I smile because you

probably just forgot

but you love me so well;

I believe even the littlest things

you do,

are for me.


© Kristiana Reed 2018

Image: pinterest

10 thoughts on “The Littlest Things

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