Sunday, 27 July 2014

Six Months And A Day

Papa, I miss you more than even I thought possible.
I regret every time I put off calling you.
I regret everytime I sent you an SMS rather dial your number
Because now I crave your voice. 
The deep rumble of your laughter.
I just have to think of you and tears well up.
Were I an actress and had to cry on cue, I know what I would need to think of.
You. The last time I spoke to you. The last  time I saw you. The last time.
Tears flow freely. I can't stop them. I don't even try.
It's OK because they are falling on the inside of my face.
Instead of coursing down my cheeks
They course down the streams of my soul on my insides
Where the pain is most excruciating.
Sometimes I want to hate Time for going on without you
But I'm caught in my own twisted thoughts. 
To do that would be to want to take life from those you love
Me included.
So no, though it might be six months and a day since you left my Papa, my Prof
It's been six months and a day since Heaven gained a gem
So live with it I will.
What choice do I have anyway?
In the meantime, as the song goes
I'll do my crying in the rain.

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Salt.

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