17.9

You enter my room
Woeful and lost
To say you’ll be back
In an hour,
But the look on your face
Says clearly to me
That you intend to remain
For more.
You begin to talk
Of nominees and banks
I know you’ve been harassed
By his calls;
You make small talk
About colleagues long gone
And your medicines
And errands of yore.
You tell me it’s hard
With no one for help
You tell me it’s tough
To cope,
To manage alone
To not rely
For in this new place
Ground and comfort lay afar.
I see the silent plea
In your rheumy eyes
I see you beg me
To get involved,
To hold you
As I would hold him
To care for, to love
To respect and to adore.
But don’t you see
I can’t do it
Not for you,
I can’t.
Despite knowing
How you need me
And how much it takes
To ask.
It’s too soon for me
The loss is still fresh
It hurts
And that never must show;
But why don’t you realize
Though I would never say it
His place
Will never be yours.
I’m struggling to cope
Though I hide it well
I’m trying so hard
To stay strong,
But every single time
I enter his room
Or see his silly netbook
The tears still fall