I sit here on a cold dark evening wondering how I got here.
How did I come to be a widow, sitting here alone in my quiet living room?
Where is my husband?
How did he disappear from my life so suddenly?
How can I so suddenly be alone with
with my heart torn in two?
I know I can and should go on,
but I don’t have any interest in the future.
I go to work
force myself to leave my bed every morning
leave my house
I eat my three square meals and feed my cat
But I’d rather not.
I’d rather stay in bed and hope I’ll dream of him
curled up in his favorite blanket
crushing his pillow to my chest
I’d rather surround myself with pictures of
I’d rather grab at any chance to relive our life together in my mind
I talk to him
cry to him
and long for what will never be again
I accept that he’s gone,
but no matter how much I attempt to amuse myself,
no matter how I try,
I’d rather be with him than left on this journey alone.
Half of me is gone
and the part that’s left is empty