And I Cried . . .

and  . . .



i cried for the fifteenth time today

in my small room, overlooking the swirling grey clouds

i cried for you today and i clasped my hands and murmured 'i'm sorry'

over and over, once more, once more

i shed hot tears for you



broke myself down for you

and clutched at four year old memories

the only thing warm in me was my breath and even that too turned cold

i clasped my hands together,

pressed my legs together, pursed my lips,

and i cried and cried for you,

wailed for you, and isn't that so dreadful?

isn't that so terrible?

that i've spent every day silently counting the passing months?



in my small room, all alone,

with only the faint humming of the heater to make noise for me

all alone, without you,

without your reassurance, and now i'm forgetting all of those miniscule things

when you'll curl up on a couch and read a book in the dimmest of lighting

or how you'll remember the taste of crabs

freshwater--slight saltiness on your tongue

and how your jokes would make me brim with vivacity



and oh god it hurts!

that i can't touch you now or smell you or see you

i can't utter words to you,

i can only write it down on paper, and i can only

i can only--and oh god it hurts!

do you know how long i've been sitting here, love?

sitting here crying for you,

trying to pour out my hurt onto paper?



i cried today for the fifteenth time this month

in my small room,

overlooking the swirling grey clouds

i cried for you today

and clasped my hands and mumured 'i'm sorry'

over and over, once more, once more, i shed hot tears for you



and sometimes, sometimes i fear for myself,

fear for myself and what i might do

if you just don't ever come back

if you just don't ever return and smile for me

smile for me and bring me sunshine

sometimes i . . .