old friend

I don't think about it much anymore, 

but I used to.

There was the year I worried it sick.

I cried at parties and after parties and on driveways and on stoops.

Almost mad with the thinking about it.

Then there was the year I waited for it to pass. 

Curled in to myself.

Never a reprieve that would last.

Now there are quiet drives

and quiet walks.

The space it left fills.

The silence gives way to dreaming.

It has left me now, at last.

And because a haunting never goes one way,

I hope it has left you too.