You was my perfect image of a husband,

Standing in the kitchen, you,

Held my back,

Kissed my neck,

In every room of our home,

In our home,

You always wanted to come home,

You used to crave….

Us being alone,

Never hung up the phone,

But its.

It’s gone.

You was the image stood at the end of the isle,

Staring at my beautiful gown,

You was my clown,

On rainy afternoons,

My hot chocolate,

On deary days,

And my sly tobacco kiss,

On naughty nights of drink.

My companion.

My soul mate.

Almost identical,

Apart from the obvious,

A man and a woman,

You was my perfect affection,

Perfect perfection ….

But now like dead petals.

Ripped from its body.

Floating solemnly…. Like our dreams and holidays,

Falling ,




Then spaced out …

Laying on the ground ….

It seems,

It tells me that ,

You ,

Love me not,

And it hurts a lot…

To leave you behind.

Shattered wine glasses,

Wounds at the masses,

Feel like I’m standing in traffic.



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