The clock strikes midnight,
The same way it did last month,
When you took your last breath…
And everyday after that.
Chipping paint that peels from the walls,
Like the way you pulled from my arms.
A seat in the corner, worn-out and tired,
From many sleepless nights.
It still rocks back and forth,
The way you did as you comforted me.
But no more.
You’re gone.
The heater revs up
With heat and fire,
Like your motorcycle,
Now sitting in that ditch.
Regrets of that night,
The words that escaped my mouth.
“I hate you”
Just like I hate the silence that now fills this room.
It’s not fair.
I should have said I love you,
Holding you closer and burrowing my face,
In the crook of your neck,
Instead of this blanket, replacing your presence.
“Good. I hate you too.”
Words colder than the air outside,
Finding it’s way through an open window.
Your sister called, told me everything was my fault.
“If he never loved you..”
Maybe it was all a mistake,
Just like it was when I picked these god awful curtains.
I hate them.
The clock ticks, another hour going by.
Time passing slowly, almost frozen.
Yet with you… It went by fast.
Our time was alive.