By Glen Staples
The minutes crawled into hours. The hours crept achingly slowly into days. When the days became weeks I began to fall apart, and as the weeks lurked hopelessly into months, the numbness took hold of my soul and wrenched it to pieces.
My heart never even noticed when the months became years.
I am broken.
Every hour that passes.
I am without you.
You are not with me.
The weight of your absence presses a tonne of despair upon my every breath. You were my air, you were my light
Without you I cannot see, I cannot breathe.
My chest tightens now, as I look at the photos of us together from those days; those special days.
We were together.
We were one.
On the good days I laugh at the memories we shared – the closeness we felt and the warmth that you gave me.
On the bad days I crumble, the pressure of my loss forces my head onto the table, and I revel in the pain from the hard surface pushing against my temple.
The pain is physical.
The pain helps.
I lost you then, and I’ve been losing you ever since
I am not me; without you I am nothing but a shell; an empty vessel drifting along the tide of life.
I’ve lost you.
And you are never coming back.
Well, not on my head anyway...
I notice you have no problem growing out of my nose or on my back, you bastard.