‘The heart doesn’t live here anymore’ –
Read the note pinned on his door.
I pulled it down and traced the words
With my cold, white index finger,
Then folded it and slipped it in
My inside jacket pocket.
I’m not sure why I did that,
Or what it would achieve,
But, somehow, it felt a part of him
Was with me in his words.
I walked back down the garden path
And saw him everywhere,
But only how a memory
Haunts a scattered mind.
And as I turned into the street,
The sound of feet and motor cars
Magnified the truth:
That no one even cares.
The rain was falling, some mother calling
Her son back home for tea.
An old man with a vacant stare
Was staring back at me.
I smiled an apology:
I was staring at thin air,
So lost inside my misery
I didn’t see you there.
And then I turned and walked away:
The rain mixed with my tears.
But that was many years ago,
Somehow, I made it here,
Though I haven’t been the same
Since my heart just disappeared.