grey

The night is lit in a ghostly white of street lights and snow. It’s cold and I set in front of my computer trying to find something to say.

It been a year and a half now and there is not one day that goes by that I am not reminded of what I had. The way the sun shines through the curtains, the smell of the house and the small black box on the shelf just beside her picture.

I am reminded of all the things I said and did. Every time I failed her. Every time I could have been more and ended up being less. Less and less until I was useless and replaceable.

Reminded of how I set in this place, this mausoleum, wishing that I could have one more day, one more chance to make things right. One more time to say I’m sorry or I’ll get that or please don’t go. Anything to stop my hands from shaking, my body from convulsing or the tightness in my chest to go away and let me find the peace I wanted so much from our last chapter in life.

Every waking moment, dreams of what might have been. Sorrow that buries itself in your bones and won’t leave no matter how cold the night is or how bright and full of promise the days are. Grieving for someone never goes away. it does not get easier or better with time. If you never get the chance to say good bye you’re left with a need that cannot be satisfied. A desire that forces you on your knees and pushes you down no matter what you do, what you say.

It’s the quiet hours, when the town is asleep and you stand in the streets looking. Searching for a hand to hold, a smile to share. The ghosts follow you and mock you for everything you failed to do. They taunt you, daring you to cut the cord, to follow them into the undiscovered country. The shriek at you in the wind to be the hero of your story and go find the love you’ve lost.

Look what I have become. A cowering, sniveling, wet nosed coward. The lowest form of humanity. Not because I am alone and old. But because I have lost my courage. I have lost my usefulness. I preform my tasks like a trained seal only to go back to my cage and sulk, brooding over things that cannot be changed, cannot be replaced, cannot be undone. I am obsolete. And I am tired of regaining consciousness. i love you dear. every day all the time. i wish you would come back home.