Daily Cascade

That Thing...

Prompt:
Write a story or poem about love without using the word “love.”

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That Thing...After You've Gone

It once began quietly
not with trumpets and fanfare
but with your soft smile
as you turned the doorknob

then you came home, totally.

It was your plate I set at the table,
and the last slice of pie
I slid across without a word,
and the light I left in the hallway

for you to not stumble, but see.

It was our hands finding each other
in the dark of the room,
our thumbs tracing circles
as if drawing courage from skin

and from our sweet words.

It smells like rain on warm pavement,
like bread rising before dawn,
like your sweater
hanging in my closet

long after you’ve gone.

And that thing is still staying
when its leaving would be easier.
It is listening
past the sharp edge of loss

while I keep hearing you inside my mind.

It grows in small, stubborn places
between tiny prayers,
and what was shared,
and in the hush after my tears

as if I've stopped breathing.

It does not ask to be named.
It simply keeps showing up,
again and again,
like the tide faithful to the shore

like maybe, you're still here with me, at home.


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