The Worst Day

He was not here the night you died.

I had lost him a few days before,

to an assignment he could not ignore.

It hurt loosing him,

that can not be denied,

but loosing you

tore me limb from limb

ripping my heart cleanly in two.

 

I told him, or so I tried,

through tear upon tear,

of the child I slew.

For only a moment, he grew silent and grim,

but not having his comforting arms

there to hold me tight, to guard against the fear,

with the absence of his words piling in,

it was all far too much for me to bare.

 

When he spoke he said he knew

it had not been any intention or fault of mine,

and together, for awhile, we cried,

our pain colliding somewhere mid-air

connecting me here with him out there,

hidden somewhere upon a distant eastern coast.

 

Three days passed 'fore I could call again

to hear his southern drawl, ladened with all it's charms,

knowing only he could undevastate me.

Our child now a ghost,

a memory cast to linger upon the brain,

a spirit yearning to be set free,

and of her, he now knew nothing?

 

I did not know, how this could be,

it took me by complete surprise.

Biting my tongue, I did feign,

trying to believe grief had drove him insane,

crushed by an apparent truth I didn't want to surmise.

Strung out on coke and high on smoke he must have been,

all the pain we felt then, an oblivion to him now.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Author's Note

All suggestions and corrections welcomed.

Reviews

[Wondering Mind]

A very sad and heartfelt write. I only have one suggestion and will send it.