- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Come Home
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Come home.
Please.
I know what they say
I hear the words
but they have to be lying to me
because if you were really dead
gone
my heart wouldn’t still be beating.
I wouldn’t wake up each morning
clutching your pillow
reaching for you
weeping on the cat that doesn’t understand
why you’re not home.
I don’t understand, either.
I wouldn’t be choking down
each bite of food
thinking that it tastes like nothing
but a mouth full of shit.
I wouldn’t be walking
talking
paying bills and writing checks
forgetting basic math because my mind
hitches
stutters
stops.
It can’t be true.
Can’t.
I want you to come home now, okay?
I won’t be mad
even though the joke’s not funny.
I won’t say a word about
the last two weeks
of hell.
Whatever I did
I'm sorry
Just come home.
Please.
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