Some days it’s like you’ve only just slipped through my fingers.
I’m still grasping for the tail-end of a thread,
trying to haul you back up, back to me
and everyone you left.
I feel guilty for the hollowness in my chest,
as if I don’t deserve to miss you this much.
I don’t believe I deserve to miss you this much
because I should have realised the acres of spaces you occupied
inside my head and heart
before the phone call rang in from your mother
and every worst fear was came crashing in like thunder.