When they died.

A Poem by dukovan

Fictional, but inevitable.

I still walk the stairs
up and down with my legs impaired,
pacing towards our parents echos

They died separately
touching seasons opposingly
with different dreams of where they'd like to be.

My mom sleeps alone.
Counting steps she takes
that grow at the same rate.
She calls my dad's name.

I don't think straight
I keep bumping into walls at night.
I listen for my name.

The faucet leaks
in the room at the end of the hall.
it reminds me of her face.
She calls me by his name.

I don't walk straight,
so I sink into the sounds.
I see them looking down at me.