Lonely Business

Back within the walls

they want me to call home.

A small word, common. 

Slips and falls from my lips

all the time; Home

The food is the same,

the company; different, altered, reduced.

Time and grief have dug holes where there once was lush earth,

Craters where there used to be trees.

They wait patiently for me to settle back into this place,

Smile and laugh like I used to, 

but isolation has created caves of resentment where there once was love,

Fear where there should have been trust.

I woke up in the bed I used to call mine,

It was 5 am and my feet walked me to his room,

my ears searching for his voice and the always too loud boom of his tv, 

Or the hissing of his tea, boiling over,

But all I heard was silence

This massive apartment is too small to hold the volume of his loss,

It stands still from his absence,

Darkness where there once were freshly plucked flowers from the terrace.

I realised my mistake a step too late,

and I backtracked into the kitchen.

My limbs shaking from the fear of being seen,

My breath quivered,

trying to hide the fact that I didn’t want to

live in a world without my grandfather’s angry growl, 

All my energy channelled into stifling my sobs,

lest they find out how much I hate being here.

Grief is lonely business 

In a house where

Your tears elicit only fear.