Facing It.

Lonely black places engulfing the mind, Caverns of glistening fear. Phantoms arising from pleasanter past Tauntingly whisper your name in my ear. Fearsome of seeing their faces in dreams Willingly I lie awake. Facing the clock-ticking wall, I keep too Clocking the minutes, for sanity's sake. Ducking below tearful blankets once more, With broken resolve yet again, Sobs fill the silence - life will, it appears, Be undeniably never the same. Words still walk their procession inside my head, Spelling out clearly 'He's gone', But half-empty cupboards untidily left Begin to insist I clean up - - and move on.