I keep staring at the door expecting you to burst through. But you won’t. I have to tell you babe this house seems a lot bigger without you here, and a whole lot quieter as well. The kitchen seems a lot colder since you’re not there to welcome me with a breakfast every now and again. The living room is sad too. I don’t watch any TV anymore. I only watched shows you liked anyway. I’m lonesome in my own home babe, ever since you left anyway. The chair, your chair’s been empty ever since, not even the dog will sit in it. Where is that dog anyway? He seems to have left me as well. Most of the time he goes outside to lounge in the warm sunlight leaving me alone.
Nothing can replace you. Believe me, I tried. The little Asian hooker Jayden couldn’t help me. Neither could a bottle of Johnnie Walker, or the second one. I just keep hoping you’ll come back. You’ll come back and sit in that ragged, old, blue chair and we’ll watch TV together, and then you’ll read a book and I’d just watch like I used to do. Shit, I still probably remember every stain on that chair. It’s almost like the chair and you created a symbiosis, you and that chair, that chair and you. I probably had the same dream dozens of time now. I wake up and the sun is shining upon me, the birds are singing and all that cliched crap. And then I walk out of the bedroom and look for you. But you’re nowhere to be found. So I run through the house shouting your name and looking. Finally I find you outside in the garden playing with the dog. I run over to hug you and kiss you. Then I start falling and you face disappears into thin air. I wake up shaking and sweaty and alone in my bed.
You won’t come back. You made it perfectly clear by taking everything with you. I’m pretty sure you would have taken the dog too if you could. What happened? How did we find ourselves in this position?
I don’t know, and there’s no point in banging my head against the wall. I guess I’ll just return to being lonesome in my home.
Inspired by Junior Kimbrough’s “Lonesome In My Home”