i lost him on sunday
only to find him on friday
sitting on my door step
drunk, stoned, lonely
i asked him if he wanted to come inside
for a little tea and company
he said he'd like that very much

so up we go
taking one step at a time
growing weary in our old age

what happens next
is not a tender tale of friendship
its a lesson of reality
and the bitterness of truth

i lost him midweek
only to find him on a blue monday
pacing back and forth across the street
i motion for him to cross over
he says he can't because other people will see

ive never asked him
but i want to know why he's so ashamed
to be by my side
to admit that i make him stronger
ive never asked him
but i want to know why im treated as an extra
you know, those seat fillers at award shows
who give up their spots when someone more important comes along

i lost him on a thursday
only to think of him 2 hours later
im waiting patiently, scanning the traffic
walking the boulevard
sitting at our cafe
i refuse to believe
that he may be gone forever
with wounds that refuse to heal,
he can't survive alone forever

my hands hurt from trying to grip emptiness
im scared to believe
that my doctoring has been in vain
because im forgotten
with each new day
so im saving all my pretty dresses
for the funeral
when im finally put to rest
and i wont be around to wait for your return again