Bereft of me

For Lee Vodra, For Chris Cornell, For all of us.

The only true loss is this loss of a soul,
Where once was a person, there now is a hole.

Now the only things left are the things of the past,
With a future bereft of your voice or your clasp.

The spaces you filled in the world with your song,
Now thud dully with silence as we all move along.

All the things that we have, all the things that we do,
Have no meaning at all, in the absence of you.

This leaving alone cuts us all like a knife,
The only true loss is this loss of a life.

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