“She’s gone,” he said.
His voice broke. He choked back tears and threw out a joke
That fell between us and broke into smithereens.
I watched, as if I had seen. I looked up.
“She’s gone,” he said.
He was a shell.
Empty, hollow, no room for tomorrow.
A broken man.
He barely looked up, his head hung in shame.
Trapped in the same blame game
That they had played, but only he remained.
There was no winning this one.
“She’s gone," he said.
Consumed with rage, his heart in a cage,
Completely unable to turn the next page.
Rewind, replay, rewind,
Searching for meaning that only he could find,
Doubting the nature of human kind,
He was blinkered, not blind, a thinker – and stuck in his own mind.
“She’s gone," he said.
His expression a lesson in concealing his feelings
But every so often the mask slips, revealing
His pain, regret, and emotional debt,
The feeling that he is completely inept.
The weeping wound, the worst pain of his life
And picking the wound keeps him close to his wife
But she’s gone.
About the Creator
Gemma Parker
Psychologist interested in all things human, particularly connectedness, intimacy, healthy relationships and love. Musician, student, creative soul, incessant need for joy, mischief and justice.
www.altogetherhuman.org.uk
@craftipsych
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Alternative resignation letter
Dear NHS, I'm writing this in case you notice that I've gone. You're so busy and overwhelmed that you might not notice for a while. But maybe when the next person leaves you or the next one, you might end up wondering whether it's you, whether it's something you did or you didn't do that means that people who were once committed to you, once loved you and cared for you and worked so hard to sustain you just upped and left.
By Gemma Parker4 years ago in Humans
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