And now...

Things that are said, things not said,
things that hurt but heal,
things that hurt, but never heal yet
now, the bed is empty.
Always there, presence assumed,
different chairs, different rooms,
politely ignored, conveniently used,
but now, the bed is empty.
Things misplaced and some are found
things are lost, then tears are found
and now, the bed is empty.
Life determines the path we trod, and love
controls our thoughts and words.
But, what will control the flood of memories
when, forever, the bed is empty?