When things go wrong, I miss you.
When things go right, I miss you.
There's a crick in my neck and I miss your hands
to iron out the bumps and knots.
And yesterday I went to the gym
and there were men there your age
being alive and well
and I couldn't lift a thing because the weight
of grief is so heavy and my muscles feel wasted,
I feel wasted by sadness.
It is so hard to describe it,
the way in which I am still
vibrating with it all,
the way in which sometimes all I can see is
that you are not there
and I couldn't hold back the tears again
because it was Tuesday
and you should have been there
meeting me at the gym for a swim
and you were not there.
You were not there.
And last night I watched singers sing
and it was beautiful
and I missed your hand in mine
so I held my own hand,
held myself together
and couldn't believe that you weren't there.
You should have been there.
And I have this thought every day:
Can we just stop this charade now
and can you come back
so I can stop being such a sad drama queen
and get back to living and loving you?
It is just farcical
that you are not here.
And, today, I got the best news
that the house of my dreams is mine
(fingers crossed, please help me,
I need it to be mine)
but all I can do is cry
because I saw it with you
and I saw you there
in the garden building bonfires
and I want to call you and tell you the news
and you are not there.
You are not there.
You will not be there.