MAGPIE

I allowed myself to hope and missed
a goodbye. 
 
“See you soon”
I said. My gloved hand, hovering, featherlight
To touch your arm.
 
In the maze of my mind there was never a future where ‘soon’
Didn’t happen. But ‘soon’ is just a word and it got
 
lost.
 
“He hasn’t recognised anyone for a while now
It’s OK”
 
I nod. I know.
 
But my throat burns
Because I could have said
I love you. I love you I love you.
He would have heard it
He could have
 
He should have. But all of my warm, glowing memories
Will be shouting it forever and ever

and I will always be that girl sat on the hard chair

that smells of green and you will be painting a magpie
and showing me,
how the feathers aren’t black. They are blue and green: look closely.

Annabelle Hawkes | April 2016