A Mourning

Saturday mourning;
Grief is raw,
Who am I supposed to miss?

It’s too light outside,
The birds sing too loudly
And life continues blindly

From downstairs, sounds of tv or radio find their way through the floorboards,
There is the hum of an electric toothbrush,
The soft padding of the dog on the stairs.

My body throbs for an absent touch.

I want to be alone.

Take me back.
Handcuff me to a Friday,
Close and dark and ours.
Throw the keys away this time and

Keep me here.

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