Since you died

A lot has happened since you died.

I lost the house you loved so much

– for which I’m very sorry –

I slept in our old car for a month

– then sold it too, needed the money –

Since you died, I visited the abyss

– several times over, in fact –

I gained thirty kilograms

– I lost thirty kilograms –

I wrote a play about us

and all the poems were about you

– even when they were not about you –

and I talk to you every day

– because you are everytime –

Since you died I met a lot of people

many of them I couldn’t trust

some I might have, given the chance

one whom I now do, and love

– she isn’t scared about me

   she isn’t troubled by the scars

   or the memories of you

   – she’s the most patient soul

      – you would like her –

Since you died, it’s been what, six years?

– no, seven years now –

   I’m losing count like I’m losing skin cells

   – each day built like a lifetime

      – entangled past, present, future –

Since you died I’ve slept with men

and I’ve slept with women

– I wanted to find love again

   seeking you in each and every one

– you know how people are stories

   – so I weaved myself in them –

      – finally finding that which I wasn’t looking for –

         – myself, of all things –

I’ve dreamt of you so fucking often

it often feels like you are still here

– it's silly but I kept for ever so long

your pillow case, unwashed

   – cursed be my sense of smell

      cursed be my thirst for remembrance –

I used it to bury my face

and cry to your pile of ash

– in the end I had to burnt the case

   – I couldn’t put it in the trash –

Since you’ve died

it’s time to let you go

– today I’ve decided that

   because I broke my love’s heart

   – undeservedly and out of love

      – the most complete heresy there is

         – I almost killed the two of us in the process –

So I need you to be, from now on

and for ever, in the past tense

– not because you’ve been gone for such a long time 

   but because you have been half of my life

   – and I have need of what is left of it –

      because I’ve been hurting since you died

      – and I can no longer wallow in that pain

         – that pain is not home, is not me

            – I too deserve rest, care, and love

               – for grief is that thing which fucking hurts

                  like a ton of bricks every morning

                  – it needs to stop, for both our sakes –

                     – It isn’t like you will die again

                        – you will simply become a fond memory

                           and, in time, a faded memory

                           – you’ll be somewhere in the walls of my heart

                              – like a name etched on the bark of a tree

                                 – each passing season diffusing

                                    less discernible each time 

                                    – until the tree gets too old to remember

                                       – forgets that it is a tree

                                          – now simply marking a spot where

                                             two people used to love

                                             – and the spot where now

                                                two people begin loving