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.