I looked in the mirror and saw myself without you

And my reflection said it was sorry for my loss.

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I will be forced to miss you longer than I was ever allowed to know you. 

My memory will linger long past the day that your scent has washed out of the clothes your mother keeps by her nightstand.

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I know you're not in hell because hell is a world where you are slowly forgotten. Hell is seeing a baby carry your name with all the innocence in the world that should have been yours. I know you're not in hell because I am here, looking in the mirror, and this world continues to turn, and it is not sorry for my loss.