Sometimes I lay on the bed and I swear you give me the softest pillows, the warmest blankets, the most beautiful sleep.
I wake up some mornings and you’re the only thing that gets me out of bed, and sure I get mad when I burn my toast but, you give me half a loaf and say ‘hey, try again’
Some days I will grip your hand like a vulnerable child clings to his mother while they cross the road.
I will let you mother me when my mother is in hospital, I will let you father me because my father never showed me protection.
Some days I will let you whisper stories of how things will be into my ear like chocolate cascading down a waterfall in a shop I can’t afford to step in.
But lately being with you is like walking through a graveyard after the caretaker has gone home and the last leaf of autumn has fallen to wither and die.
These ghosts are following me, settling in the coffin that is my stomach. They leave their words on my lips for me to lick when I am starving.
I have a new friend now, He’s called lonely, he’s an ******* but he won’t disappoint me and it’s always cold where he takes me.
I need some consistency, with you Hope, you leave me empty, like I’ve already died but there’s a 60 year wait for a spot in the cemetery.
I saw a homeless man give a mother money,
A businessman brag in an emergency room,
A teenager who cut his wrists tried dying,
And an old man pray for his wife to live.
— The End —