Don’t ask me if I miss you.
I’m not some schoolgirl
Who’s lost her mobile phone.
Thumb still twitching
In her pocket.
Don’t ask if I miss you.
I’m not a smoker
On a long haul flight
Fingering a Marlboro
And eyeing the loo,
Biting off the head
Of some poor steward
Who put milk
In my tea.
Don’t ask if I miss you.
I’m not a poet
With a good idea
And a bad memory
Searching for a pen
That works.
Don’t ask if I miss you.
I’m a woman
Who’s lost her better half,
Her reason to get up in the morning,
Her breath and
Her life.
I don’t miss you,
I’m dead
Without you.
Sallie, this is poignant yet superb. You've expressed grief so well. Love, Fran xx
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This, simply, is one thousand per cent brilliant. I wish I had written it. t x