Sherlock, I'm Waiting

The rain,
It's pelting down on me.
I don't mind.

I see my reflection,
On the cold black marble,
That represents you.

I can feel the coldness,
The emptiness,
Eating away inside of me.

Sherlock, when will you come home?

The tears are drowned by the wetness,
The sky that's crying along with me.
It weeps and it screams and it pierces,
The thunder and lightening my cracked soul,
And I let it cry along with me.

Withheld by my own two legs once,
They collapse on the grass below me,
From which used to be dirt.

A reminder that it was so long ago,
That I was left alone.

Sherlock, are you left alone?
Wherever you are, wherever you go,
Do you remember me,
Or think about me,
Like I think about you?

Do you dream that you were back home,
In 221B Baker Street, experiments and all,
Strewn all over the house in the oddest places,
Or maybe sitting on the couch,
In your mind palace,
Thinking,
About your more recent case?

Do you wish that you were back with me,
So I could stop throwing away,
That cup of tea,
I still make every morning?

I wonder if I ask,
Mycroft or Lestrade,
Where you are,
Will they answer?

Will they believe I'm crazy,
Will they hide it?
Because I still know,
That you are alive,
Regardless of their answer.  

You can't be dead.

You are Sherlock Holmes.

I wonder what you are doing out there,
Where you are or what you act like,
Without your favorite blogger.

Didn't you say,
You would be lost without me?
I think,
That I am really the only one,
Who feels lost anymore.

I don't know what to do,
I don't know where to go,
I don't know what you believe,
Or what to see,
So I stand here,
In the rain,
Waiting,
Debating,
Concentrating,
Trying to remember,
Your smile.

I glance up at the sky,
The clouds that are taking over the sky,
Do they wish you were here as much as me,
Do they feel lost without you to guide them?

I wonder if they are alone,
Never getting your attention.
You always said that they didn't matter,
But you always stared at them, didn't you?

Sherlock,
The rain is coming down harder.

Sherlock,
My body is twisting tighter.

Sherlock,
My emotions are becoming bleaker.

Sherlock,
I want you to come home.

Sherlock,
When are you coming back?

But I know,
That every time I come,
To your grave,
Thinking,
That it's me you wish to save,
I know,
That you won't,
Come back,
Anymore.

But I know,
That for the rest of my life,
No matter how short or long I live,
I will wait for you.

So Sherlock,
Come back home.

I'm waiting.