A Wound That Never Heals

 

It hurts me

when a you shaped hole

appears in the cosmos,

where there is

an absence of colour,

where the sound

scrapes along,

where the light

is masked by

dense grey mist.

 

That’s where

I miss you

the most.

 

When it rains

a greasy rain,

when the cracked bell

clangs,

when the planets

are misaligned.

 

That’s where

I miss you

the most.

 

When my shadow

disappears

behind my back,

when the alcohol

turns the semblance

of normality

to tears,

 

when I reach for the phone

to tell you the news

and my hand is stilled

by the reality

of the reaper.

 

That’s where

I miss you

the most

dear friend.

That’s where

I miss you

the most.