I miss the leaves that fall to the ground
I miss the silence when there's too much sound
The crackles and pops of days gone by
Without you, my lungs just sigh
I'll be waiting, oh I'll be waiting
The records on, the teas made
The parasols up to provide some shade
I'll be wearing my skinny jeans
With my feet up on the sofa
So come home, my Casanova
I've made you a Sunday fry with a side of soda
Got you a bouquet of roses
I've bought you a cake fresh from the bakers
If you promise there'll be no more broken plates and coffee makers
Cause back then it seemed like the coffee made itself
The door was ajar when I got home from work
you were wearing a different shirt
And you were missing your tie
Oh why
Oh darling, oh darling
Is it too much to ask for
To have your hand in mine and nothing more?
You can stroke my hair
And kiss my cheeks
But you ain't done that in weeks
I know you love me
Surely you must care?
That I'm not happy
Oh, this isn't fair
I got a letter this morning
Asking for your stuff from our apartment
They say you wanna leave to Amsterdam
With some other man
So I'll pack up your stuff
All the pillows, cushions and plastic forks
The tv remote and your copy of wii sports
The dartboard and the speaker
And your calendar from the theatre
A big box of heartache and staplers
And I'll throw in, all the broken plates and coffee makers
Oh darling, oh darling
Is it too much to ask for
To have your hand in mine and nothing more?
You can stroke my hair
And kiss my cheeks
But you ain't done that in weeks
YOU ARE READING
Words Of The Dead- Words Of The Living- #Wattys2019
Puisi#1 in poetry- 26/7/18 Every day, thousands of people struggle with mental and physical illnesses, fighting battles people refuse to talk about. I'm here to change that. This poetry collection shines a light on mental illness, hopefully saving a few...
