Broken

Since you’ve been gone, there have been a lot of empty hours.

It’s funny how a person can be busy – have lots to think about and be occupied by – but still have time to spend every minute of every day feeling lonely and lost. It’s like a massive contradiction, an oxymoron of epic proportions. And if you ask me, it’s kinda unfair. There should be some kind of respite, right? There should be something to do, or somewhere to go, that will mean the pain will stop for a while. But there’s just nowhere to hide.

I miss you with everything that makes me the person I am. The good person and the bad person. I miss you with every beat of my heart and every breath that I take. I miss you in my private moments, and in the midst of my public life. One day, perhaps in a hundred years or so, I’ll stop missing you. But in the meantime…

My feelings are broken
And it hurts
Just like I always knew it would
The shards are in splinters in a place just out of reach
So that I can’t pick them up
And nurse them back to health
They just lay there
Taunting me with their jagged edges
And jaded misery

My feelings are broken
And it hurts
Just like I always knew it would
And each breath that I take is like glass mixed with pins in my throat
So that living is painful
And each step a mountain
Hard to master
Making the oxygen harder to come by
A waking misery

My feelings are broken
And it hurts
Just like I always knew it would
There’s a huge leaden weight inside my chest that pulls me down
Laying burden upon burden
Keeping me pinned under
Stifling all hope
Reminding me that the fault is all mine
A constant misery

 

There It Was – Gone

Since you’ve been gone, today has been so empty.

Everywhere I look, I expect to see her, curled up in the corner, or sitting with her ears pricked up as she watches the squirrels in the garden. No more do I have to step over her as I go to draw the curtains, or have to ignore her pleading eyes as she watches me eat.

I didn’t have to go out in the rain today, or undertake the wet dog challenge upon returning home. I didn’t see her lopsided smile, tongue lolling out of her mouth, as she bounds in from the garden and gallops, literally horse-like, to the kitchen for a long drink.

A submissive underbelly was not presented to me for stroking. Nor was there a persistent nuzzle against my hand, requesting – no, demanding – to be loved.

There’s no comforting figure asleep on the floor beside my bed, and the gentle sound of her dog tag tinkling against her collar as she shakes herself – that’s gone too.

I can’t stop thinking about where she is and what she’s doing, and can only hope that she doesn’t feel as desolate as me. I hope she finds a wonderful owner soon. One who deserves her. Not me. Not a failure.

None of these feelings are new to me. This is just another loss adjustment that I will have to make. One day something is there, something I love and in which I find much pleasure and fulfilment. And the next, it is gone. Perhaps there is a lesson in all of this. A truth that I must learn. But for now, all I know for certain is that I miss, with a great, deep, yearning ache, how it used to be, and I mourn for what once was.