I think of you in the sunlight. Spring breaks. Tears fall. I weep as another year passes. Another day goes by. The day mild, the air warm. My heart still cold, without you.
I scrape charred bread. The sound grates. Crumbs fall in the bin. Lost. I spread raspberry jam on the remains of my burnt toast. I bite. Chew the mistakes around. Smile when the sweet raspberry hits. Slowly swallow. Dry crumbs scratch my throat. I cough. Hurt. Grimace as I keep on eating. The cover up wasn’t worth it.
I drop a pencil, hear it crack. Pick it up. Listen to the core. Graphite snapped. Invisible. Inside. I press on it, write a sentence. Sketch a drawing, shade the grey. Use it. Broken. I know it’s done. Inside it’s shattered. A rattle, a clatter. Pieces fallen. Outside it’s fine.
I long to paint the morning sky, cushion clouds in clusters of pink and blue. I think of what I’d use, the shapes I could make, the tones I could create. Just to keep this close to me. To feel this again.
Blood splattered, a Jackson Pollock on the floor. Glass glistens, like fallen tears. I kneel on the cold canvas, hands busy. Picking, placing, moving. I tidy. A knock on the door.
I sit, surrounded by things. Things you used to own. Photos of things we’d done. I gather them up, into a mountain of memories. Set them alight. Watch us burn. Alone. I watch the fires dance. Bright sparks reaching for the night sky. A tear in my eye. I look to the stars, watch the smoke weave it’s way to them. A chill in the air. I sip my mug of wine. Say goodbye. Watch the fires burn. The heat fade. The ashes sit grey.
It’s nearly your birthday. I try to ignore it, my heart pounding. Every year I worry, someone will see it beating fasting, someone will notice the tear in my eye. I don’t see you. The last candle blown out long ago.
I stand, staring. Thinking of a kitchen in another house. Staring out a window with a different view.
I wish I could say I’m sorry. I wish you could hear my words. In the long dark hours before dawn I dream of you and apologise for the hurt I caused. It wasn’t enough. It’s never enough. I wake with regret. Thinking of you.
I sit alone. Light off, door closed. Listen to the drumming rain at the open window. A breeze in an empty room, passes through me, not touching, not pressing, just there. With me. I breath a little easier. I breath.