I have papercuts Tearing up scraps of paper Printed photographs Of memories that should be in sepia I didn't know my heart could be shredded And my soul in pieces As the loneliness creeps in Overtaking the mould in the cracks My head in my hands Shoulders to the floor As my tears paint the cracked lino Cursing you with every expletive...
But you did make breakfast Every weekend and brought it to me Those lazy days when you would cuddle me Then you did hold my hand When Mom was passing Your words building me up The way you built that treehouse...
I don't want to forget the old you Because maybe, just maybe, He might return.