I open my eyes and I see your eyes.
Blue, velvet. I fucking love you, the windows open and the curtains are swaying in the breeze. It couldn’t be any better laying with you, there’s trees outside the window, there’s a planet we can fall in love with. But we don’t need that because we can just lay here and be in the moment, beautiful.
You maybe an adult with age but you are a child at heart and it breaks me in half, that I can’t rescue you from yourself. You can blame others for all the issues in your life but it won’t help you.
You lay there and close your eyes again, they shut slowly and you say no words, I push my hand through your hair, naked I walk out of the bed and towards the shower. I wasn’t calling you over but you came along anyway. I love holding you it feels like we are somewhere else we are safe we are away from the problems.
We had no problems.
I was carrying your baby, and you was so excited, I wasn’t so much so at that point. You was talking to me about how amazing it was going to be, we hadn’t been planing. I had been grieving so hard. I had been drinking so much, leaving uni at 3am in the dark. With no one to be with, hours of writing. Because of the funeral, I had to take resits.
I had to walk past the reminder every evening, would it of fucking hurt to say sorry?
We fucking worked that bedroom the neighbour’s where probably pissed by now, sat in their blow up paddling pools, smoking weed.
Why do people do that?
The people across the way have had a broken fridge outside the front for months, and now they’ve added a broken bbq. Do they not know that there is a skip about 4 miles from here?
Why do people do that?
Problems we had no problems.
The hospital called they said that there was a decline in my hormones, all them aches and pains wasn’t imagined.
I grabbed the hammer and smashed the phone to pieces.
There’s so much blood, is there supposed to be this much?
I keep climbing in the bath is that supposed to make it go?
How long am I supposed to sit here.
If I hear another ‘are you ok?’, I will fucking scream. Hearing you talk about how it happends to 1 in 4 women is not making the situation any easier. Being ok in a couple of months, theres always time, is not what is on my mind.
I needed a friend. I needed a family member, I needed someone.
I lay there, you talk to me and I have no words to say, I just stare at the window with the curtains swaying, not as beautiful as they was in the morning.
I blame the house, I blame myself, my stupid body.
Problems, we had none.