Here is what has happened
since you walked out the door,
literally, not figuratively,
no more than thirty minutes ago.

A bunny in the backyard
stared at me with such intensity,
I felt I had done something wrong.

The power flickered,
trying to decide
if its existence was worth living.
Ultimately,
it chose to forge on.

The trees danced
in time to the summer’s melody,
shaking their layers
of children.

A sugar packet
gave me a paper cut.

And as of five minutes ago,
I wrote this list
to distract the ridiculous way
my heart begins to clutch
when I remember you are gone.