The Pointless Book

The Morning After You Died

I changed the sheets, washed my hair, tried to read and failed
I turned on the news, saw that life carries on, looked outside and saw it there too

I watched an insect climb my bedroom wall and blew on it to make it fly
Instead it just fell down, down, down the crevice of my bed into the unreachable darkness; I prayed to God that it would find you
And that it carried a bit of my breath with it, a faint breeze that lifts a stray hair of yours, reminding you of me