Toothbrush/Trash

Today I just felt it for the first time
Three months and one day after you died
I realized that these photographs we have of you
Are slowly replacing the subtle familiar
Memory of what it's like
To know you're in the other room
To hear you singing on the stairs
A movement, a pine cone, your squeaking chair
The quiet, untreasured, in between times
The actual experience of you here
I can feel these memories escaping
Colonized by photos, narrowed down and told
My mind erasing
The echo of you in the house dies down

October wind blows
It makes a door close
I look over my shoulder to make sure
But there is nobody here
I finally took out the upstairs bathroom garbage that was sitting there forgotten since you were here
Wanting just to stay with us
Just to stay living
I threw it away
Your dried out, bloody, end-of-life tissues
Your toothbrush and your trash
And the fly buzzing around the room, could that possibly be you too?
I let it go out the window
It does not feel good