In your death I found my strife;
But I still feel you linger, like smoke, in the night.
A gust of freezing air flys through my home on a fresh August day;
I haven't heard from you in a couple hours.
Clouds are rolling in from over the hills, boringly grey;
I haven't heard from you in a couple hours.
Baking bread in my kitchen to pass the time and I hear a knock on my door;
I haven't heard from you in a couple hours.
Behind it stood two police officers, and, their hats; they lowered.
I haven't heard from you in a couple hours.
The telephone in my hallway has been blowing off the hook constantly;
Like a child who doesn't understand that they can't have more candy.
It's just me and my intrusive, unexpected sorrow here right now;
Why the fuck would someone call me as I'm planning his funeral for tomorrow?
I'm angry, I'm at peace;
I collapse to my knees.
How dare you up and leave;
What about me?
Maybe I'm lucky in that I had something so special to lose;
But words cannot describe the emptiness I felt when I heard the news.
I had always been nervous every time I thought that love would one day be over;
An anxiety of agony, for your blood pressure, does wonders.
But when the scenes of the saddest films poured into reality;
I'm now bent over backwards in sheer, empty agony.
What am I supposed to do now that you're gone?
How on earth am I going to move on?
You took my heart with you when you died;
All I am now is a heartless monster, hollow inside.
But that's all I ever want to be without you;
I could never love again; it would feel too weird to.
In your death I found my strife;
But I still feel you linger, like smoke, in the night.
YOU ARE READING
Psychology
Poetry"The rest is silence decorated in confetti". 💀🦋 'Psychology', my fourteenth poetry collection, explores and examines the lives of two fictitious and purposefully stereotypical characters: Jack, the popular sports-star who is his hometown's hero an...
