Now there is nothing

The door swings closed. We walk empty corridors and look at each other knowing and not knowing. It is only us now. No one to care for. In the last breath, he exhaled centuries. Continents. Undying love. Now we are four. Together, yet alone. What happens now? I wait for a sign. It is not the pain of parting beauty I feel now, but a severed head. It is my own.  Truly mine. And I don't know what to do with it. The body is compelling but the head is in agony. It rolls on the floor and moves between tears and silence.  What now? In the end, he didn't know me. And the only thing that mattered was kindness. Kindness came easy to me. Kindness for him. How do I learn to let that kindness reconnect the head to the body. How do I  inhale again and restore the continents? The love? The corridor is completely barren now. Everyone has retreated behind a closed door. We trade places. Stepping up. Stepping down.  In the end, it is always the same. There is no why. There is no meaning. There is only time.