Empty Chairs

Empty Chairs

The water is boiling;
It trickles up over the edge of the pot.
Landing on the stove top
Burning my hands
As I reach to stir the froth down.
There is no hesitation when my wrist twitches
As the boiling water lands on it.
A plausible explanation
For my lack of emotion.
And there is no short
In my hunger for company
As I eat the shit out of this mac and cheese,
And she sits quietly
In her empty chair.

I fear the vision I will witness
When I ask for her to pass the pepper,
And I realize I’m the one reaching for this pig,
Wearing a plaid handkerchief,
Just so I can shake pepper from his snout.
I figure it will upset me too much,
To repeat this step.
So I go without the salt for the night.

Napkins are a chore as well.
So I use the front of my shirt.
I’m not going to ask the one sitting across from me,
The one in the empty chair,
To reach behind her in the drawer
And grab me a napkin.
I just don’t feel that she would appreciate the task.

My conversations are bleak
As I don’t have much to say to her.
But when I drop my fork on the floor
And I see that she isn’t using hers,
I politely ask if I could use it.
I take the silence as a yes
As I reach across the table gently
To hesitantly take her fork.
Just one time I hope that she would object
From her empty chair.

She has sat in this empty chair
For what feels like years.
In all reality it has only been a few weeks.
She doesn’t fill it up like she used to
And I’m not sure of the reason,
I feel that maybe she lost some weight.
I try to convince this girl,
The one in the empty chair,
To eat the mac and cheese I make every night.
However, I don’t make it like she used to,
And I can rarely finish mine either.
Sometimes I feel like she is upset,
Sitting in her empty chair,
With the fact that I just throw hers away.

She is such a beautiful girl,
Sitting here with me in her empty chair.
Night after night without a word
As she listens to the few words I have.
One day I will move her chair
To the garage where it belongs.
Her empty chair will be missed though.
Because she will still stand on the empty floor.

I will never let her leave.
Because I didn’t want her to die.

I’m going to eat the shit out of this mac and cheese for her,
So she at least feels like she tried.
But hers was so much better.


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I really feel the pain in that
very nice piece

come on man. help me out a little more

feed me seymore

Yeah, there was a lot of pain evident in this.

I really like your stanzas and the brevity of your lines. You put a lot of heart into this, and I don't know if anything stems from your life, but I understood it all. It reminded me of when I used to make mac and cheese with a girl that just meant the world to me, sitting in bed and drinking green tea. She's gone, and I know the feeling when you go to do the things that you used to share with someone. Your expression was flawless and how you worked with the metaphor of your imagination was great. It was like someone who can't let go of those things. If there is someone you knew who did die, I'm greatly sorry. I hope this is just a great work of fiction.
I look forward to reading more of your work, I didn't recognize the name but now I remember you. Take care.

Thanks brother