And the birds sing songs of sorrow

I lay my head upon your pillow, I don't feel the warmth of you there anymore, and your clothes hang in the cupboard gathering dust. The birds sing songs of sorrow, for they can feel it too, something in the air that reeks of sadness.

Old scratched photographs of our happy times line my walls and shelves, but empty frames once to be filled, now mourn your loss. Old home movies played on projectors, display your smiling face , but they don't know, that you are now departed.

I make a cup of tea, for one now not for two, your favorite cup sits on the shelf neglected.
And me I sit alone, trying to think of happier times and the memories of you, that I've collected. I feel an emptiness, that I never thought I could, I wish that you could return to me and fill it. 

Forever, I thought, would be a much longer time, years from now I thought we'd still be sitting here together. Illness took you away from me, before I could even try to prepare, for life without you here, beside me.

I cry so many tears, for you and for me, and the loneliness of this place, without you. 
I wish to hold your hand again, to snuggle up with you, for you to fold me in your arms again, for comfort. I miss you so much.