I’m Sorry I’m Not Always There

Sat in a room of tears,
I held her close
as she did to you
in your last breaths.

I hurt less than you
but my tears can flow, too.

Small, tasteless,
welcome but unwanted.

She counts the minutes
tormenting herself
as I sit beside her,
silent and empty.

This pit was unexpected
and it sits there deep inside me
it’s naked to your eyes
but I promise I feel, too.

I run her a bath,
a distraction that says “I love you”.

She accepts and swallows the tears,
still haunted by the ghostly image.

As the tides in her eyes settle,
we speak of the photographs we kept,
some in your memory,
other for our pleasure.

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