by Jeremy Wayne Couch
A certain sense of doom
Permeates my room
An effervescent cloud
Neither solid, nor loud
Like the rain yet to come
Or that which has already been
I think it must have been the loss
That caused this effect
I'm sure it has something to do with you
At least I strongly suspect
Nothing can be created
Nothing destroyed
So when you left
You left behind a void
But a void is a something
Filled with absence and memory
And though I cannot touch it
It has surely touched me