Surviving Separation

Returning from the final violation I was swallowed by the empty house. The meal last cooked was there in the weeping Frigidaire, The room breathed emptiness. Before it turns into a hell I must leave things as they are, the smell, the last used perfume, the last reflection in the mirror, I must freeze them all into a mummy. All along I've been used to the presence And now it was all disintegrating, Crumbling with or without my touch For unbearable days, months, years… I yielded then to the rolling tears.