Poem: What Happens

What Happens

What happens
when you disappear;
when you grow silent
not for hours
but days, weeks, longer still?

When your normal haunts
no longer see you each morning,
coffee in hand, smile
on your face, when

depression
slowly drains your life, leaving
a ghost,
a memory,
a wisp of fog

that burns
away
in the morning sun,
who remembers,
and how?

What happens?
Is there a hole somewhere
besides your own soul, or
does light flow in
to the vacuum
and you find yourself utterly
erased?

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The picture is a camera "mess up" from a picture taking session about a month ago. It shows nothing, which seemed to match the poem.

Tom