It’s coming, I know it is. I don’t know if I’m pretending, not realising, or forgetting. Am I distracted or am I doing this on purpose? Today, the answer to the question is I’m ok, thanks. Tomorrow when he arrives, his body, the shell, arrives, absent of HIM. The HIM that loved me, the HIM that shaped me, the HIM I wished away, wished was different, the HIM that has broken my heart many times over. HIM, he won’t be arriving.
Tomorrow, when he doesn’t, the trickle of my tears will turn to streams, rivers, an ocean. I won’t breath, the pain of the broken heart will be renewed. Tomorrow, the answer to the question will be a scream.
Ify