The key they’d given me still fit the lock,

but the house no longer felt like home.

The familiar photos still hung on the wall,

But I feel so completely alone.

It’s been eight months since you left,

Not that you had the choice.

But you left me here by myself dammit,

& I really need to hear your voice.

This house is my house, but no…

it’s not a home.

Because you should be here,

Not under a headstone.