No.

Would you turn around
If I tapped you on your shoulder?
Would you say hello
If I suddenly got colder?
Would you call me back to see
If I would stay?

Would you take my hand
If my smile got smaller?
Make me dance
If my eyes got duller?
Would you wait with me
Until the crowd went away?

For all the times you say yes
All I hear is no.
The voices in my head tell me
To turn away and go.

Could you hold me down
When I can't get closer
Tell me how
It's okay to be sober
Keep me dry when my eyes
Won't let me feel?

Could you hold me down
When I can't get over
Tell me how
It's okay to be sober
Keep me dry when I don't know
How to deal?

Would you walk with me
In the rain for hours?
Would you talk to me
If I hadn't showered
Would you drown with me
If I complained about my day?

Would you sing for me
So my love feels lighter
Keep me warm
So my eyes stay brighter
Would you tie me up close
If I want to run away?

For all the times you say yes
All I hear is no.
The voices in my head tell me
To turn away and go.

I see you from where I stand
And I don't think you'll ever know
How much I want to tell you
That I can never let you go.

So for all the times you say yes
I don't really know.
Will you tell the voices in my head
To please leave me alone?

Could you hold me down
When I can't get closer
Tell me how
It's okay to be sober
Keep me dry when my eyes
Won't let me feel?

Could you hold me down
When I can't get over
Tell me how
It's okay to be sober
Keep me safe when I don't know
What is real?

For all the times you say yes
All I hear is no.
The voices in my head tell me
I can never let you go.

Today.

Today is not an easy day.

The necessity and reluctance of the morning seem minuscule compared to the weight on my chest, like an implosion moving clockwise mimicking the hands of my watch telling me how late I am, pulling any sense of self confidence or strength into a wormhole that would only close if you were here. While I sit at my desk, constantly telling myself that the cameras in the lobby are on and I need to keep it together, I can only wonder what it would be like if I started my day with the smallest amount of you.

Today is not an easy day.

Marking off tasks and meals one by one, hoping it will keep me from thinking of the emptiness that exists without you, is offering me a joy and distraction that is so fleeting and temporary that even the rain outside my window seems to be laughing at my attempts of drowning out your voice in my head. Packing away my things to begin my journey back home, from my quiet, lonely work space that I share with 200 people, makes me wonder what it’s like for you right now.

Today is not an easy day.

Walking out of my gate and onto the street, my headphones cooing into my brain; every step sounds like a shovel digging deeper into my conscious need to hold you warmly in my arms again. Rejection from 5 different taxis and the panic of realising that I may have dropped my phone somewhere outside my office building, but didn’t, drives me to wanting a tall, cold, bitter cup of coffee – the ones I love in the morning and you can’t stand the smell of. I wonder if you will ever share another coffee with me. I bought hot green tea instead.

Today is not an easy day.

Dragging my wet shoes into the house, the weight on my chest has now radiated down my legs and into my ankles, leaving muddy trails behind me that I know I will regret the next morning when I have the energy to clean it up, makes me stare blankly at the empty space between me and my walls, which I can only imagine to be filled by you, standing with a broom or a hug. Instead, I take off my dry clothes and footwear that felt like they were soaked in the storm that was my day, hoping that a hot shower will make me stop wondering if you are happy where you are (and if you are happier than me).

Today is not an easy day.

I wrap my towel around my shoulders to shield my chest from any more feelings of impending doom and/or shivers of realisation that there’s a chance that you’re not coming back.  Laying down, still wrapped in nothing but a cloth that serves as an excuse for protection from circumstance, my eyes can only see flashes of all the things I could have done, and should have done for you, with you. As I drift away into my ceiling and beyond, I wonder what tomorrow may hold for me when I do this routine all over again, and whether you have a routine like I do.

Today is not an easy day.

Reluctance swirls into necessity at 2AM, and as my body slowly sinks deeper into my sheets, hoping instead that it was engulfed by your smell, I am thankful for the few moments that you showed me the true meaning of having another half to end my average, not so dramatic, relatively good and productive day that has merely been overcast by hunger, anxiety and slight amounts of natural imbalances in body chemistry. Subconsciously planning for my next day, I can’t help but wonder if you are warm at the end of yours.

Today was not an easy day.

But I know that there is a new day.

There is always a new day.

And maybe this new day will be kinder.

Or it won’t.

But I know what I have to do.

I know what my mind can make, I know what my heart can take.

I know that I must carry on and do it all over again, because that’s what we all do.

My final thought is of hope that it’s been an easier day for you.