The worst kind of pain

broken heart

I scroll through my playlist, but all the songs have lost their music,

I browse through my closet but all my clothes have lost their colour,

I rampage through the kitchen but all the food has lost its taste,

I read through sympathy messages but all their words have lost their meaning,

I plan for my next move but all my goals have lost their direction,

I smile when I have to but all my joy has lost its depth.

 

I’d ask you to mend my broken heart but you’re not here,

I’d ask you to help me carry the broken pieces but you’re not here,

I’d ask you how to stop the pieces from cutting my insides but you’re not here,

I’d ask you to write me a letter but they don’t do that there,

I’d ask about our plans but you won’t be here to see them through.

 

What is it like over there?

Did it hurt to go?

Can you see us?

Can you hear us?

Are you at peace?

…………………….

Dedicated to my brother Israel Mutibvu, without whom I would not be here.

 

 

 

 

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6 thoughts on “The worst kind of pain

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