What Are You Going to do When I’m Gone?
What are you going to do when I’m gone? What will you do when my blaring music, My accusing voice, My sweet cherry-scented perfume, My presence no longer fills that void of a room that used to be mine? I did not expect you to understand I did not expect you to hear me out I did not expect you to believe your daughter when she was put on a brave face to tell you the truth but inside she was writhing in pain I did not expect you to understand So I left What are you going to do when I’m gone? When the space that I filled is now empty, When the smell of chamomile tea no longer wafts through the house in a plume of fragrance that signifies my content, When that tea has long gone cold, Left on the coffee table near my tears I left with the keys Turning them in the ignition, The feel of the rumbling seat ignited an anger in me I had to get away I sent a text to Amber, telling her I’d be there in a few I started down the road Wiping the angry tears from my face Wiping away the misery of makeup and detachment My phone buzzed I stopped at the red light My phone buzzed I reached down to answer it My foot slipped from the peddle I gasped and lurched forward My car rammed into the black Ferrari passing me I felt nothing What are you going to do when I’m gone? When my morning kisses, When my constant chatter, When my long hours on the phone no longer keep you up? What are you going to do?