white box van

sitting on the living room floor 
in the same position we'd have sat 
if the sofa had been there 
we took up our usual places 
you up one end 
me the other 
the room is totally empty 
except for us 
and two mugs of tea 
your last remnants 
removed by two men 
with cockney accents 
tattoos 
face masks 
and a white box van 
we spent months 
clearing your possessions 
every box 
every drawer 
every cupboard 
we've cried together 
we've cried alone 
we've thought of you 
and smiled 
these last fragments gone 
carried out the back door 
by strangers 
separate us further from you 
and now there's no comfort 
this isn't home anymore 
emptiness drains me 
further 
further still 
we didn't take the kitchen clock 
the one that ticked so loudly 
when pain shut out words 
couldn't bring ourselves to move it 
to touch it even 
so there it will stay 
alone 
ticking

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