How can I explain what the loss of you has done to me. I don't even know what to say.....so many times we sat and discussed your death. I feel like maybe I shouldn't tell anyone the things you said to me, but I feel the need to tell everyone, oddly. You had become so resigned to your weakness inside of her throes, and you tried to make everyone around you resigned to your unromantic end. That is where I want to start: the romance. Everyone else I ever knew who was as obsessed with her as you were understood and fell victim to her romance. You fell victim to something much more harsh: whatever it was she gave you, you drank in like a man who had been seeing mirages for weeks on end due to the heat. You weren't trying to be a great writer, or an amazing musician, you were just trying to get by. You would profit greatly and lose massively from her romantic advertisements.
Your needs and wants and wishes were never your favorite topic of conversation. You laughed in my face when I told you it would all end up the way it was supposed to. You looked to me as though I was infinitely positive, and I am so negative to relative standards. I just go through this maze of a life with the hope that everything is supposed to turn out the way it does, and no matter how many times you warned me, I could only see that the fates would one day bring you peace, but I have never been able to look at death as peace, because I fear the unknown. You let it in, gave it a key.
I want to believe that heaven can be felt on earth. A first kiss, a first love, a child's birth, all a piece of heaven for a mortal moment. I want to think that in the explanation you gave to me when I asked you frankly about how she felt to your touch, you weren't lying when you said it was a slice of heaven. Maybe when you are experiencing heaven as you pass through the mortal corridor, heaven takes pity upon you and gives you forever that which you tried so hard to attain falsely. Yet you got immense pleasure out of shocking me with your blatant indifference to those who you knew were sinking, and you were supplying their anchor. Maybe your indifference was the fruit of your own lack of victory. You have to want to win.
Your respect kept you from doing alot of things you knew were fleeting urges. How could you possess that massive amount of respect for everything else, and resign yourself to a role that you looked down upon? I still feel you at the bar, down the sidewalk. I hear your laughter. I see you becoming mythic in the eyes of all those girls, hear you belittled by those who refused to look deep inside you when you were here. I hear you say, "hey, lady....."
I miss you everday, your sunken eyes, your heart.
I cry for your little girl.
I wish we could go together and buy everything on the menu again.
I want to read the door in your bedroom, and I want it to say that you won.
Your needs and wants and wishes were never your favorite topic of conversation. You laughed in my face when I told you it would all end up the way it was supposed to. You looked to me as though I was infinitely positive, and I am so negative to relative standards. I just go through this maze of a life with the hope that everything is supposed to turn out the way it does, and no matter how many times you warned me, I could only see that the fates would one day bring you peace, but I have never been able to look at death as peace, because I fear the unknown. You let it in, gave it a key.
I want to believe that heaven can be felt on earth. A first kiss, a first love, a child's birth, all a piece of heaven for a mortal moment. I want to think that in the explanation you gave to me when I asked you frankly about how she felt to your touch, you weren't lying when you said it was a slice of heaven. Maybe when you are experiencing heaven as you pass through the mortal corridor, heaven takes pity upon you and gives you forever that which you tried so hard to attain falsely. Yet you got immense pleasure out of shocking me with your blatant indifference to those who you knew were sinking, and you were supplying their anchor. Maybe your indifference was the fruit of your own lack of victory. You have to want to win.
Your respect kept you from doing alot of things you knew were fleeting urges. How could you possess that massive amount of respect for everything else, and resign yourself to a role that you looked down upon? I still feel you at the bar, down the sidewalk. I hear your laughter. I see you becoming mythic in the eyes of all those girls, hear you belittled by those who refused to look deep inside you when you were here. I hear you say, "hey, lady....."
I miss you everday, your sunken eyes, your heart.
I cry for your little girl.
I wish we could go together and buy everything on the menu again.
I want to read the door in your bedroom, and I want it to say that you won.
