At 4am, I’m angry.
Well,
I’m sad,
But that’s part of it too.
How come they get to carry on?
Why you not one of them?
.
I wrapped myself in your coat today,
The smell of smoke clung to my hair.
For once, I didn’t mind;
I wanted to keep it,
Wrapped up in
Every
strand.
.
I keep thinking of your hands:
Paper-soft , tanned skin.
The hours, the hardships
They’ve endured.
So delicate and decorated with a Welsh-gold ring.
.
Pauline’s heart is broken,
Ripped apart, then torn in two.
We all are truly,
Snapped in half,
But grandad’s a different shade of blue.
It’s deep,
And dark
And never-ending.
I guess that’s what soul mates do-
They’re with you in the very depths,
And fight, until there’s nothing left,
to get you through.
.
I remembered when we were younger,
And we’d hear you arguing downstairs
Sitting,
Listening,
On the stairs,
Giggling as you’d fight.
.
It’s hard to believe last summer
Was your last summer.
You’d not be missing much this year.
.
A wicker casket’s what you wanted,
And wicker’s what you’ll get.
Ten at the graveside only,
Almost perfect for you,
I bet.
.
Were not children anymore,
So now they’re not afraid.
They say it
And
They show it.
And I’m embarrassed.
Because I don’t want to
Show
Or
Tell,
That private part of of me.
Of how I feel,
In loosing you
And how
I’m left with it.
Full time teacher, sometime writer from Bristol. Poetry is what G S tries on when the world is confusing.
Twitter: @Gabriella_Stell