Half Life

I have opened my eyes
every morning
for 13,951 days.

I am more than half way
through your life,
maybe also through
more than half of mine.

Every choice
is an avenue
where what I choose
can be the end
or beginning.

I freeze.
I can’t think.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t see
what road to pick
that will lead
home.

Home is not where
it used to be;
you’re not there.
I’m not there.

Everything feels
in between,
like a forgotten path
nobody travels anymore.

I feel separate,
alone,
lost in the middle
of what was
and what never will be
again.

Every day my eyes open
is a day I have not seen.
It is a day
you will never see,
another tick
on my calendar
of grief.

Time is a thief,
a disease of my mind.
The days keep
coming
and going,
coming
and going.

But you do not.
Someday
I will stop
and I wonder
if anyone
will miss me
as much as I miss you?