Written about my father many years after the death of my mother

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I get up and she's there

I say good morning, have a cry

She watches me brush my slowly decaying teeth

As I get myself dressed she hears me groan and creek

Complaining about the pain

Sighing down the stairs, she makes sure I don't make myself trip.

Her presence and my fear stop me falling.

Chris Evans' cheerful tones remind me of Wogans passed.

A friendly voice waking me up replaced by an alien youth.

I complain to her about him.

But, for the 2,565th time she says nothing.

Silently tolerating me.

I know she disapproves of me like this

But I don't care

She can't leave

She had no choice

She had no right

She had no way

So I stay

My life shrinking

Getting darker as my eye sight slowly degenerates

So she remains

With a look of disdain and pity

But she should have thought about that before she died

The friends and family don't ring so much

Don't visit so much

I pretend to not remember these things

But in my heart I know

But if I go then she goes

And if she goes I'll have nothing left

Just a hole in my heart

Shaped like the plain wooden coffin

Buried in the ground

with a space next to it that I'm too scared to get into

My mausoleum

My museum

My world

By Simon Zec

From: United Kingdom

Instagram: simonzecpoet

Twitter: simonzec23