When You Slipped Away

When you told me
you would leave because
it would be too hard to
keep on living, I cursed
your weakness.

You couldn't possibly
love me if you planned
to leave me alone to pick up
the pieces, and take care
of the children and move on
with our lives without you.

Back then that
seemed the very worst thing.

You're still here,
but you're not.
You did actually leave
although the body is still here,
you are definitely not.

I remember you liked surprises
and were always up for fun.
All of our surprises these days
don't entail too much fun.

You're here,
but you're not.
I know how much
you would have liked
all the things going on,
even if you don't seem to
enjoy them much now.

I remember 

who you were.

I remember 

how much I loved you.

I look at you now,
and don't know who is there
behind the eyes I used to know,
and the face I used to trust
with the words that used
to mean something
and a smile I used to look for -

the arms that used to hold me.

I'm alone,
and I'm okay.
You're alone, too,
but you're not okay.

I guess I'm really not either.

I remember when
we used to be together alone,
now we're alone
when we are together.