Still

Still of the night? Still haven't? Still should? Still crying all the time. Still falling down at his grave. Still struggling with the idea, the realization, that this isn't a long time away from him. It's forever. He's gone. He won't be coming home. It doesn't matter, I can leave the sheets on his bed or take them off. Except I haven't been able to take them off. I can take his clothes out of the closet, except I haven't been able to take them out. If I fold up the clothes in his dresser, what do I do with them because I'm not saving them for him. I've known people who so quickly emptied things out. Why not? or is it why? I could quite easily close the door to his room and leave it be until I die. I want to die. Time and time again, day after day, I day dream of death. I wish for it. I want it. I want an end to everything. If it were to come in my sleep, that would be fine. But I dream of other ways. I wish I could tell you otherwise. That I want to live. I want to die. I want to be dead. I want it over.