Empty Spaces

There are empty spaces everywhere I go, except on the occasional bus ride which is most inconvenient. Those are the spaces Lol sneaks his way into. I see him sitting on public transport, I see him in waiting rooms, I see him on the sofa next to me when I’m watching television. Every time I leave the house, I look for his car in the empty parking spots on my road. It is never there, just like he is never there to fill the emptiest space of all which is the one inside of me where joy used to dwell.

I do what I am told: I eat, I sleep, I socialise. In fact, I have one on Sinead O’Connor as I am booked with one thing or another almost every night and occupied most of the day.  I may be completely exhausted but at least I am busy. But people were wrong: filling time does not fill the hole in my life. My heart and mind are haunted by the shadow of the man whose whereabouts escape me, whose thoughts do not reach me and whose love has deserted me. No amount of activity seems to alter this, and in truth, I cannot tell if I wish it to or not for perhaps at this point, it is still preferable to be accompanied by a ghost than to be truly alone.