We were walking, you and I
down a sidewalk, back and forth
You weren’t speaking, no surprise
looking distant towards the North
and counting steps
But I knew you’d have to leave
of much, would I complain
From my memory I’ll retrieve
the treasures, the plights, the pain
So on you went, up North
I’ll walk alone, for now, just me
While I go back and forth
waiting for another visit in my dreams.
Fifty-two Sundays. I’ve counted Fifty-two days of vivid depression. The filling three-hundred and thirteen days intermixed of nightmarish terrors, shaking anger, tear drenched pillows and mind numbing regret.
It was that Sunday I was happy, not knowing it was that Sunday that he left.
Rain pulls me into reverie
to bring me away from my harsh reality
Thunder shakes beneath my feet
Shaking the core
Jostling my soul
Clashing intervals most complete
Tink, Tap, Tlonk
Sweet small clatter of rain
Drops of random
The subdued pain
Light creates cracks
Bright flashes whitewash the sky
don’t let it die.