Christmas 2010

Tomorrow I will awake,
and it will still be cold outside.

There will still be snow,
and I will still be alone.

My hand will reach out,
as in the morning it always does,

To touch the empty space beside
in case you came back while I slept.

And poor little me,
with a warm blanket and a cup of tea,

I hate to know that I miss you all the time,
and hate to know that you miss me

I despise remembering the moments I wished for you,
Lovely. You were lovely.

And I waited on buses, and I waited on trains
I waited by mailboxes, and by the end of my driveway

But when you left me that night,
in the bitter cold, with no one for miles

and everyone asleep,
everyone too asleep to hold me,

I cried.

And so, as it goes,
tomorrow I will awake.

My long fingers and stretched-skin-over-bone hands,
will slowly touch the soft sheets beside me

Only to find the bed is cold on that side
And at least, for one more day, I will be bereaved.

Sweet man, with jacket in hand
You re-trace your steps to Christmas,

It's tomorrow, I remind you
Beautiful boy, I release you.

It's the hardest thing I've ever had to do.