If it was me, and this was you,
Where would you be? What would you do?
Would you have yet stopped thinking about the night that we first met?
Would the pain of precious memories still escort you to bed?
Would heaving loneliness be your most frequented friend?
Would your spark have met its match and burnt out to its end?
Would emptiness still fill the pit of your chest?
Would waking up each morning have become the ultimate test?
And what of your confidence, what of your drive?
Would they have been shattered, would they have survived?
Or would listlessness linger as an ongoing plague
and storm clouds surround you day after day?
And in those rare moments when you muster a smile
would you feel you’ve betrayed our love for a while?
And then as you peer down the passage of time,
Could you see any future which is yours and not mine?
Would you wish that you’d never denied that last hug?
Would you wish that you’d spent more time with my love?
Would you pray every day just for strength to get by,
to give to your children the love they require?
At the end of each day, would your one sole desire,
be for the day when this world will expire,
for the day of our Lord’s most glorious return,
when wrongs will be righted and suffering spurned.
What would you do, where would you be?
Would who you are still be at home with me?
I’m glad it’s not me, and that this is not you.
The thought of you suffering is a thought I eschew.
So where am I at, and what shall I do?
I’m nowhere, I’m nothing, I’m lost without you.
But if in your stead this is my pain to bear,
then gladly I’ll bear it until I see you there.
Poetry
