All That’s Left is She
No one warned me I’d look like her
a mirror etched with memory and ache.
She stares back,
beautifully dressed(as always)
but hollow in the eyes
he wouldn’t let me face.
He turned me away.
Perhaps to shield.
Perhaps to spare himself.
But pain, once born,
knows no such grace.
You didn’t go to sleep—
you vanished by choice,
or was it none at all?
Now I test my life against the silence,
the shape I take in her reflection—
and all that’s left
is she.
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All That’s Left is She is a poem about loss, reflection, and the strange way grief reshapes identity. It captures the quiet moment of recognising yourself in the one you’ve lost, and feeling both haunted and held by that resemblance. Through sparse lines and unresolved questions, the poem explores how absence carves its shape into the living, until memory and self begin to blur.
