It’s Sunday, and I won’t see you.
I say the words again.
Even though I don’t want to believe them.
“I miss you.”
Yes, I miss your subtle scent.
And, yes, I miss your fervent kiss.
Of course, I miss your gentle hands.
I miss the way you lifted me in the darkness.
In the end, you won.
I didn’t have a next move.
I had thought we’d play as a team.
But that was before I really understood you.
I can’t blame you, even though I’ve tried.
You had burdens that I’ll never know.
Still, you were stronger than most people.
At the same time, you were more fragile, too.
I couldn’t figure out what you needed from me. I couldn’t find the balance.
You were acid in my mouth.
You were fire in my heart.
You were nails in my stomach.
You were the soul of my song.
You were the warmth of my tears.
You were the distance disappearing.
I walk these halls where you still glow.
It’s so strange to think you were happiest here.
This is where your heart felt healed.
I guess I don’t want to let that go.
I’ll wander with hope it will heal me, as well.
Little by little, maybe a tunnel will appear.
And if it does, I’ll want to believe it’s you.
Maybe you’ve found happiness, and you’ll want that for me, too.