If you leave, I expect the world to crumble around me.
But first, I will think it’s a sick joke.
One played by the God almighty,
Who laughs at the sight of smoke.
Then it will hit me that you’re gone,
A weight I am not prepared to bear.
My hand outstretched, please hold on!
There’s nothing more than damp, heavy air.
Broken windows let in the cold,
No sign of warmth or love.
I’m falling apart in this single-person household.
With only a cacophonous mourning dove.
Once the dust settles, I’ll have to keep trying.
I’d hope to find myself again, after I grieve.
But if these feelings keep intensifying,
It might be the end of me if you leave.
Categories: Creative Works, Poetry
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