The night is quiet, except for the nocturnal birds that never stop singing.
One gets used to that and perhaps, finds comfort in it.
She lies beside him, as she always has.
Her cries, screams and laughter erupt periodically
brought on by dreams she will never remember.
He rubs her back and coos at her.
Her best companion, now is a child size rag doll,
she talks to it, like she once talked to him.
Her soft, warm hands do not touch him any longer,
only the doll.
He aches with loneliness,
no one to speak to, no one to hold and be held.
When she was young life was good.
This tiny woman was always there for him.
Bad things happened.
Still, she was always there.
Now, she is lost to him forever, only a shell exists.
One he must feed, clean and cry over.
He is often angry at her, though she has not a clue.
"Die or come back to me" his mind screams,
But, never will his voice utter those words.