celebrated you; my home.

My therapist yesterday asked if I was hopeful for the future,
If that’s something I think of.
And in bewilderment,
In somber disbelief
I looked around me.
with caution,
Looked at the couch you used to lay in.
And told her that hope has never been questioned,
I’ve always had hope that things would get better,
In time they will.
They have to.
But my bad days will always be heightened,
They’ll be deeper in sadness,
Especially during the days when it’s easier to rap my head around the idea that you’re gone,
Those days will be the hardest.
But a day is a day,
It shall pass too.
And as for hope,
As long as I’m able to recognize a good day for what it is,
Then I’ll be okay.
So my glance drifted from the couch to the rest of the room,
Stared at the walls that heard your secrets,
And the bed that incubated your dreams,
And celebrated the vicinity that you made my home.