‘It’s still early days…’

I wake up with Harry the cat walking over my face. Fuck, is my first thought. It’s Saturday.

Saturdays have become the most difficult day since you’ve gone. Saturdays mean at least forty hours must pass before I can go to work and have something to distract my mind from this impenetrable sadness. I count the days in my head. Thirteen weeks. You died thirteen weeks ago today.

I push Harry off the bed and turn onto my side. I pull the duvet around my neck and scrunch up my eyes, trying to block out the daylight seeping in from the window. If I can just go back to sleep, even for a little while, at least I won’t have to face being alone with my thoughts. I try hard to think of nice things and to drift off back to sleep.

Of course, it is to no avail. Apart from the fact that my toes are poking out from the bottom of the bed and are in danger of being shred to ribbons by a predatory Harry: I need a piss.

With a heavy sigh I sit up. Carefully, keeping the duvet around my neck to ward off the impending chill, I hunt around the bed for the remote control and turn on the TV. I’m amazed at how reliant I have become on this screen. It’s on more often than off now – the inane chatter of random talk shows preferable to the otherwise morbid silence.

When Harry’s cute (but really fucking annoying) meowing finally becomes too much to bear, I haul myself out of bed. Pulling on yesterdays t-shirt and joggers from the floor I walk through to the kitchen. Harry weaves in and out of my legs causing a near catastrophe more than once. I look in his dish – little bastard still has half a meal left from last night. There was no need for him to wake me up at all.

He’s a poor wee thing though. He’s been finding it hard too, since you died. He doesn’t like being alone much either. I top up his food and water bowl and he tucks in appreciatively. I give him a pat and head to the bathroom.

As I move my hands in and out of the tap water I examine my face in the mirror. Just look at the fucking state of me. At thirty eight I’m not exactly in the prime of my life, but still, really?! This is what I look like now? Jesus.

My hair is greying, my face is blotchy and bloated and my eyes are like piss holes in the snow. Thankfully my clothes hide the worst of the scarred, stretch marked, cellulite ridden body I know fine well I live in. To have to look at that this morning would really push me over the edge.

I go back to the bedroom and jump back into bed. As I get comfortable Harry comes to join me, settling on top of the duvet for cuddles. At least I have him I think. It’s better than no one, and I’ll take all the friends I can get right now. I need them since you died.

I reach for my other friend – a cigarette – and I am momentarily soothed as the nicotine rushes through my blood stream.

I consider getting up, getting dressed and going in to town to buy some shit I neither want or can afford. It’s how I’ve tried to fill the gap, since you died.

I remember it hasn’t worked the last two Saturday’s, so there’s no point trying again today. I set the TV to put itself to sleep in half an hour and settle back down again. I pull the duvet around my neck and close my eyes – Harry still purring away beside me.

The days news is burbling away in the background. Some cold and unfeeling male voice is revealing that, apparently, five people in China have died from a mystery illness. Definitely best not to go out today then. I drift off into a restless sleep.

I wake up with Harry the cat walking over my face. Fuck, is my first thought. It’s still Saturday…

(Originally Posted 03.03.2019)

My Advice

Do as I say 
Not as I do

I wouldn't
want this pain

Inflicted
on you

(Originally Posted 10.03.2019)

 

Queen

Even though

It’s still a shit show

It must go on,

I suppose

(Originally Posted 22.03.2019)

Who Am I?

I think that I forgot myself

Somewhere along the way

So not only have I lost you

I’ve got a whole life to replay

(Originally Posted 28.07. 2019)

Aftermath

Confusion reigns
As my head struggles to explain
What I feel inside my heart

Sadness remains
As with all encompassing pain
I hate that we have to part

(Originally Posted 06.07.2019)

I Hope You’re Happy Now

My eyes weep
As my heart aches
I hope you’re happy now

My mind breaks
As my guts bleed
I hope you’re happy now

My soul scars
As you leave
I hope you’re happy now

(Originally Posted 21.03.2019)

Hard/Harder

Falling asleep is hard 
Waking up is harder

Getting showered is hard
Putting on clothes is harder

Making breakfast is hard
Eating it is harder

Leaving the house is hard
Going home is harder

Crossing the road is hard
Looking both ways is harder

Listening to people is hard
Talking to people is harder

Smiling in general is hard
Laughing at jokes is harder

Living with you was hard
Living without you is harder

(Originally Posted 13.3.2019)

Recording

It’s like living in a film

Where someone else has pressed Play

You are unable to Rewind

And you cannot hit Pause

To Fast Forward is inconceivable

As all you want to do is Stop

And Eject

(Originally Posted 17.05.2019)

Cheats Never Prosper

If there’s one thing I’ve learned

It’s that you can’t skip the stages

Even if moving forward

Feels like it’s taking fucking ages

If you jump too far forward

You only fall further back

And all you do is store your pain

For further down the track

Left Guessing

Time moves on

Yet I’m stood still

Fading away

Losing the will

As each second

Passes me by

I can’t forget

Or stop asking why

How Long Has It Been Now?

From this cold embittered heart

I just cannot be prised apart

Like a leech on an open wound

Oh, is there any hope for me

From the past to be set free

And to love again become more attuned?

🖤

Poles Apart

I still cry myself to sleep

Not that you’d know

You selfish creep

You think because

We all lost him

That we both feel the same

But you’ve really got

No fucking clue

How I live each day in pain

Currency

I'll
give
you a
penny
for
them

He
said

Tell
me
your
ups
and
downs

You
can
put
your
coppers
away

She
said

As
for
those
I'll
need
pounds

Sown Up

I don’t feel better

I haven’t forgotten

I’ve just stopped telling you

How I feel

Hometime

As the hurt starts to subside

And the pain begins to fade

I’m never too far

From the reminder

Grief is still the sharpest blade

Mawkish

You’ll say you miss him terribly

As you bleat and cry and whine

But all I’ll remember is when

You couldn’t stand to be near him then

Even half the fucking time

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