Tonight, Robbie took the chest away,
The big one that was in your den,
Well, the room that used to be your den.
I had to empty it out first,
And it was full of memories.
The elephants from that card you bought me in ’94
When you lost me in the Market cos of Paul and Ian.
Dumbo in the bath, still happy, forever smiling.
That weird lamp that was meant to be like daylight,
It looks like a discarded robot’s arm.
Paintings, so many of them.
You spent hours doing them, I’d bring you cups of tea,
Just to see your little smile, just to make you smile.
When you were upstairs, painting, I felt safe and happy.
Now, that room has the opposite effect on me.
You left most of the paintings behind, with me.
He stares at me, accuses me.
His glass eyes see through all my bullshit,
All my positivity and “moving on” and “coping.”
I want to make things right and bring you back to him
But I don’t think that’s going to happen, really.
One of the canvasses had got stuck to another
And as I separated them, its skin got ripped away,
Welded like iron to the other’s body.
In a perfect world, the canvas would heal miraculously,
The gaps and faults of the ripping apart would fade.
But in this world, those scars won’t disappear.