You said you would never leave me,
and you never have.
Every lonely cup of tea
is a stinging reminder of
the empty space beside me
on our too-big bed.
Every empty room
fills me with the lack of you,
your lithe limbs, your gravity, your perfume.
Everything is cold without the heat of your gaze.
What good is my breath, my life?
It is wasteful; I do not know
who to be, if I cannot be your wife.
Truth be told...I do not even know how to be.
What good is anything now,
when you have turned to dust?
The strawberries are bitter, broken is every vow,
and beauty itself has begun to rust.
You said you would never leave me
and you never have...
because I have buried your body in a way
that I cannot bury your memory.
I like this. Morbid, but nice. Wonder what inspires you to write all this. Tell tale heart is quite an apt name for this blog. But you'll never know who posted this comment, so too bad.
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