Loki'd

I turn to see Benedict 
But he is not there
Not his grey sparkling eyes
Or his curly brown hair.

I miss his fake drunk knocking
And his frightening, crazy stare
The way he held his pen
But that’s fine, ‘cause he’s not here.

I’d say it doesn’t matter
But it really, really does
His jacket hanging silently
Reminding me of all that was.

But what upsets me the most
The very most, you get my gist
Is the horrid realisation
That he never did exist

There never was a Benedict 
And like a cabbage patch
He bloomed, and then he left
My Benedict Cumberbatch