And now, a poem not about that at all.

Within these lines, one will not find a trace.

An absence somewhat short that feels quite tall;

Undue, the darkened hole left in that space.

A crushing, fleeting nothing passes soon

whenever crushing absence seems to be.

A song undone can always change its tune,

but changes only come impossibly.

Now, silence reigns, and yet I can’t relax.

Alone at last, a shadow seems to loom.

Not speaking never sparked panic attacks.

Not feeling never caused a spinning room.

Inattention now measured unwanted.

Absence departing may still leave haunted.