1.
The subway still runs,
but your voice is in the gaps—
doors close with a sigh.
2.
Our coffee shop hums,
your chair holds only echoes—
I sip what's not there.
3.
Fifth Avenue lights
can't outshine the empty seat—
I still walk beside you.
4.
At the Met alone,
brushstrokes blur behind my eyes—
art aches now, not heals.
5.
Rain taps on the glass,
your key still hangs by the door—
some storms never leave.
6.
We kissed by the arch—
now I walk through it alone,
each step a farewell.
7.
You left in summer,
yet snow fell inside my chest—
I shiver through June.
8.
Your old sweater sits
where your warmth used to begin—
wool without the soul.
9.
Taxi rides are cold,
though the heater’s turned full up—
no one says my name.
10.
In Chinatown dusk,
I eat for two by habit—
no hands across mine.
11.
On the Brooklyn Bridge,
our lock still clings to the fence—
but keys don’t return.
12.
Your last message sits
between two unread emails—
time forgets to heal.
13.
Bodega flowers
once meant “I’m sorry” or love—
now they rot unseen.
14.
Two mugs in the sink.
I wash both out of habit—
one heart still in rinse.
15.
The skyline still glows,
but your name dims every view—
stars blink like regret.
16.
Autumn in the Heights,
leaves fall without ceremony—
you took the seasons.
17.
In Grand Central’s crush,
I search each face for your eyes—
none turn back to mine.
18.
Your laugh filled this room—
now silence writes on the walls
in a broken script.
19.
No more toothbrush kiss,
just the hum of radiator—
your warmth turned to steam.
20.
We fought on this bench.
Now it holds only pigeons—
peace, but not my own.
21.
You took your records,
but left the sad ones behind—
they spin like my thoughts.
22.
Rain walks me to work.
You used to, in softer shoes—
the puddles don't care.
23.
Streetlight through the blinds
reminds me of your shoulder—
still glowing, still gone.
24.
St. Marks, late at night,
I read old texts in the cold—
your silence replies.
25.
Even in this grief,
the city does not slow down—
somehow, neither do I.
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