They Never Tell You

They tell you it will hurt,
The void, the churn, the silence,
The hoping and the deafening drumming of your heart,

They tell you what you will miss,
The hugging, the kissing, the whispering,
The bed that smells of quiet lovemaking and wine,
Warm bodies intertwined in the morning,
So you hide your tears till the sun turns black,
And then cry silently into your pillow,
Praying sleep will end this dastardly dream,

You miss the kiss before you start the day,
the phone calls on lazy afternoons,
surfing channels on the tele before bed,
knowing exactly where her head will rest and,
Where your hands will talk to her skin,
They never tell you, you will miss the routine,
The predictability, the careless monotony,
No! They never tell you that.
Bastards!

Source - Grist