Chairs That Stay Empty

There are chairs
that stay empty.

Not because
they were never filled,
but because
no one asks
where the person went.

They stop showing up
and somehow,
it becomes normal.

We adjust
to the silence
like it’s furniture.

Nobody says,
"Where is he?"
Nobody says,
"She’s not okay."

We let people
slip through cracks
and call it life.

But it’s loss.
It’s grief
in slow motion.

It’s a voice
that used to laugh
in the kitchen
and now
doesn’t echo anywhere.

We grow used
to absence
like it's polite.
Like it’s part
of the plan.

But there’s nothing kind
about forgetting
the ones
who left
without a sound.

Some chairs
are empty.
And no one
notices.