Not As We

Nobody lives here anymore. Poke and stir the ashes of yesterday's consumption, you will not find me . . . and they have been missing for a while.

There were signs it was happening. My soul became painfully still and quiet. I couldn't locate myself in the expanding vacuum. I fell . . . lost with no identity, no way to get home. Voices often went missing in silence. Regardless of frantic searches, they were never recovered. Without their presence, I was perpetually absent. I did not realize how much I needed them until they were gone, and my fading shadow discovered it was too late.

With the only feeling the dead have, I grieve for my parts and how they once gave me life.

But I will rise from the ashes, only to be forced to die all over again tomorrow.

Just me, not as we.