I stand at the sink doing another pile of dishes
Listening to the television shouting in the other room
And thinking how I would give my own life
To walk back out of this gloom and find her sitting there
Waiting for me, for me, me.
I was asked: “are you happy?”
My response should have been: “When? For how long?” I have moments, genuine ones.
Seeing children laughing, buying a friend a coffee,
Sharing simple conversation, watching a pretty girl.
It doesn’t last. There is only one constant: she is gone.
