Grouting

My love has up and left me
a note wrote in the bathroom on the door.
Silver tiles around me
like fallen diamonds dying on the floor.
For years we've lived with echoes,
the ghosts of home improvements in the rough.
She's had enough.
And I've nothing else to do but get a spatula and glue to show my love.

Grouting.
I've spent the evening grouting,
and there's tears of love and loneliness involved.
Grouting.
I've spent the evening grouting,
and now I'm crying while they're drying
'cause my tilings had me writhing here in hell.

The walls are bare as I am
as naked cold as sadness all around.
For years they have been waiting
to hug the clean ceramics on the ground.
And now I have a reason,
the one I love has left me on my own.
I'm so alone.
God I wish that she would come back soon and see how much I miss her in our home.

Grouting.
I've spent the evening grouting,
and there's tears of love and loneliness involved.
Grouting.
I've spent the evening grouting,
and now I'm crying while they're drying
'cause my tilings had me writhing here in hell.

The coffee tastes of whiskey,
put it back upon the half built kitchen shelf.
I'm thinking of our history,
the plans I'd hoped to implement myself.
But now my love was walked out
it's time to plan no more but time to do.
It feels good too.
So if baby you can hear me know that every tile I put up is for you.

Grouting.
I've spent the evening grouting,
and there's tears of love and loneliness involved.
Grouting.
I've spent the evening grouting,
and now I'm crying while they're drying
'cause my tilings had me writhing here in hell.

© Mark Sheeky. Permission is required for reproduction.