I never made you dinner

You're sitting there on our bed and I keep thinking that I never made you dinner. With your long white hair, the curls still vibrant while the rest of you have fallen silent. Your stare's blank and your mind's full of thoughts and cries trapped in a world of forgetfulness as you slump into a heap of old clothes and unplayed records stacked in a storage somewhere.

I'll come back for you one day. I promise.