Wind rustles your curtains, the breeze tickles your cheek
Air swirls around your room as I enter, and all warmth you felt slowly trickles from your veins
Darling, we both know how this will go.
You’re seeing blue while I’m seeing nothing,
If we had mood rings yours would be aqua while mine would break, with the chemical solution dripping down my hands
The glacial wall between us stops us from speaking
And then comes the water.
The tsunami plummets into your house
As I can’t control any of my emotions
All you see is a distortion of what used to be;
The sensation of drowning is the only thing keeping us conscious
But I am a storm, and I am not done.
My scream rolls like thunder through the state,
Everyone knows.
Lightning flashes as I throw useless objects around:
My phone, your pencil, the last scrap of my sanity.
The fire commences quickly,
My anger and self-hatred are ready to combust
I blame her for this, but we both know it isn’t why
Smoke clouds our minds as you try extinguishing me
But I burn even brighter
Before my match reaches it end and flickers out.
And, to conclude, in comes the rain.
Rain floods my face, as I run from you, from your house, from myself
You must watch as the storms rise up to meet me, as I run into the fire
As I slam myself into the glacier
As the rain chokes me
As the wind pushes me towards my fate
I am a natural disaster.
Make sure you don’t get stuck in the eye of the storm.

Since that day I have always asked myself what I could have done
‘Maybe I should have called’
Or better yet, ‘Maybe you didn’t want me to.’
Perhaps there’s a chance you didn’t know that you were dying
Perhaps you didn’t want to admit it to yourself
What if you were still here?
But I have to remind myself each day that you aren’t, and you aren’t coming back.
I still have your dog.
Does he remember you?
I hope he does.
I’ve shown him your photo countless of times, masking my tears behind a high-pitched interrogation of ‘Do you love Mommy? You remember her, right?’
Your photo is in our living room
I know, you hate that we put it up.
I tried saying that,
But why didn’t you tell us?
Maybe you didn’t know.
I love your dog.
But he’s not mine, he’s yours.
I pet him and play with him as if this was the only house he knew
But he knew yours
The small house on the water,
One of the few places I felt truly at peace
Until the day of your memorial service
When I shouldn’t have had to sprinkle your ashes over a fire,
Or into the ocean.
When I locked myself in your bathroom and sunk to my hands and knees
And could no longer smell the sweet notes of your perfume
When people told me that I was so strong
But maybe I wasn’t
Most definitely I wasn’t
My strength died the day that you did
And I highly doubt I’ll get it back
Until I see you again
Maybe you knew, but maybe I should have been more focused on you than myself
Maybe I should have called when my gut told me to
Because you died in your sleep that night
And I didn’t spare thirty minutes of my ******* life to tell you I loved you.