The Black Ink Collection

Tonight I am alone in this old house. I sit quietly with my back pressed against the sofa. My eyes are afixed at the clock on the wall. I'm waiting for somethin to happen. Waiting for you to come home. But you won't be coming back will you?

This silence. It's something new to me. Usually the air is filled with our arguments.
Our insults.
Our threats.
Our curses.
Our lies.
Our failures.
Our struggles.
Our regrets.
Our apologies.
They would all rise to the ceiling. This time there is nothing. Just the ticking of the clock on the wall. Marking each passing second. Each second I spend without you.

I'm so sick of crying over you. I can't cry anymore. But I want to. I want you here next to me. I want to feel your warm breath on my neck. I want your arms to wrap themselves around me. I want to kiss your lips ever so gently. I want you to tell me that everything is all right.

I know you won't be coming back. This is something my mind keeps rejecting. I just keep denying it. But I know you will never walk through that door frame ever again.

I sit here staring up at the clock on the wall.Its rythm plays on. It chants:
Tick Tock
Tick Tock
Tick Tock

I can almost swear that I can hear your voice chanting along.
In a hushed whisper I enscribe these three words into the silence:

I Miss You

and I do.