Refraction

You might see my life through the kaleidoscope of distance and think
"Oh, she seems to be doing great. Her eyes, look how the shine. Her smile doesn't falter, I guess it's been a while."
And you might go even further, as you tell yourself that public records will not lie, will not deceive you, but tell you all there is to know about my new life.
"Do rainy days still make her smile? Does she still dance to Queens? Does she keep my plaid shirts? Do they make her weep? Has she found someone new?"
And if I could answer, I would smile in reminiscence not bothering to hide the pain that's still so fresh and bravely meet your gaze to say
"I still think of you when the CD player jams and nothing short of a good smack can fix it. I still make coffee in the morning because the smell never fails to wake me up. I still leave the fridge's light on even though I know you won't make midnight trips to the kitchen. I still have no idea where I leave my keys, and now you're not there to find them for me"
I'd tell you all about my new friends too, tell you that when I've managed to go consecutive hours without feeling your absence I treat myself to ice cream because I feel stronger. I'd see the questions written in your eyes and I'd answer with queries of my own
"Did you fix the fifth button of your favorite coat? Do you feel lonely when you can't sleep and no one's there to caress you? Are you glad that there's enough hot water for your showers? Does anyone comb your bed hair in the morning ? Have you found someone else to sing to?"
So when you see my life through uneven lens, through shifting shadows and ever changing shapes I hope you have the sense know that I still eat dinner alone in a table set for two. After all, the one thing you didn't teach me was how to do life without you.