Death is silence.
Silent paws.
Death is absence.
Your window spot is empty.
Death is scentless.
Almost.
What is acceptance?
Deciding that the good was worth the bad?
Deciding that good is in some way eternal?
Maybe I never loved them,
my lying, abusive lovers.
Else I would feel the sweetness
In the bitter.
Else I would hear
Their silent footsteps.
I would see
Their absent basking in the sun.
I would smell
That they had pranced through my house and shed on my blanket and made my world a better place.