He is a formidable presence with height and weight and depth.
I studied him — every plane, curve, and angle — to understand how his dimensions might best accommodate my own. Simultaneously dead weight and constant motion, I learned how to move him and how to hold him still.
I memorized his gravity so I could negotiate its pull.
But there was just too much. He took up considerable space inside my heart, my mind, my bed. There was little room to move and nowhere I could go to prevent my own displacement.
His absence is formidable. It’s indistinct, but expansive, and I do my best to fight its gravity.
Despite the sudden space, it’s still hard to move beneath his weight.
He is the lightest albatross around my neck —
the tiniest elephant in the room.