the truth and burnt biscuits

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in the still of this night, i remember your voice
your breath, heavy on my neck…in my ear
it’s as if your were right beside me in my lonely bed
oh, the silly imaginations that come deep in the silence of the darkness
never, since the day you died, have i felt closer to you
you are a shadow at my back
your hand is the morning sun caressing my face
your eyes seem to share my own, as i view this world so differently since you’ve gone
in the morning, as i make breakfast, i feel you sitting at the kitchen table
you never look up from your phone, or paper
some things never change
no matter how hard i try, i burn the biscuits, and, in my mind’s eye, i see you give me that look
that disgusted look, as though i’ve lost the farm on a bet
i say i’m sorry and you instantly flash a smile, as though you hadn’t just cursed me with that look of yours…that heavy sigh…the shake of your head
i begin to cry, and i feel you leave as i wipe the tears from my eyes, shooing you out of my kitchen
and i’m happy that you’re gone
because, during those few minutes, i recall the pain of being your wife
i remember what it was like to feel like a prisoner in my own home
i hear the venom in your voice when you spoke to me
the gun by your chair
the pills
the pills
the pills
and, though i’m not proud of it, i am grateful that you’re gone
but, by the light of day, the truth shows itself
and no lovely hue cast upon me by the sun can change one bit of that truth
it’s your truth…mine…ours
even though i may, sometimes, forget that truth in the still of a lonely night, i’ll always have sunshine and burnt biscuits to bring me back to reality

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