You used to call me your other
half.
You were right.
Now you are gone, I am one half of the
picture.
The
missing piece of the puzzle that is your life.
In a world like a jigsaw that doesn’t fit.
I am reminded of my lonesome tears in the early morning dew.
And the spring breeze caresses my face like you used to.
The brown of the autumn leaves reminds me of your hair,
And with the frosty winter snow, the bleak and frigid
realisation comes that you are
No longer there.
In the summer months are picnics, flowers and trips to the
sea and no matter
How much I enjoy, there’s a silent pain that you’re not with me.
I watch your daughter building sand castles and wish that
you could see her too.
Every time she looks at me, I see you staring back at me in
her dark and endless
Eyes, like an imprint of my love for you for all time.
She has your mannerisms and your habits too.
She even dunks her biscuits in her tea, like you used to.
It causes me
overwhelming love for her and overwhelming pain.
My life will never be the same.
I
walk round the supermarket and wonder what you would have
liked to eat.
Your writing is still on cheque book stubs and papers around
my house.
There’s no more of your washing or your shoes all over my floor.
My heart sinks
knowing you’ll never walk through that door.
Your smile greets someone else’s day
While I try to cope with knowing
I am one half, broken in half.
The missing piece in the bigger picture.