She’s not dead.

She’s just…out.

I’ll make her bed

For when she decides to come home.

I know I buried her.

I know I haven’t showed up to work.

But what if she comes back?

What is we were all wrong?

It’s not good to imagine her coming back

My therapists and family all say.

But she always came back before.

She can do it again.

My head can’t picture her cold.

Her hands were always perfectly warm.

I can’t see her 6 feet deep.

She liked the sun to much for that.

I still hear her laughs.

I still feel her at night.

I still want her back.

I still can’t believe she’s dead.

I still can’t believe I killed her.