Raz
Bluelighter
I saw a pregnant girl today;
she didn't know that it was dead inside.
The sun rose again today.
I still don't know whether it's telling me that it's okay to remember, or that it's okay to forget.
I miss you Chantelle, in an odd kind of way; a dead girl from the other side of the country who never even existed. I still remember the call which birthed you. Your mother searching, and the rest came true in my mind. In our minds. The magic you brought to living that I really wanted to have been there all along. The way you made me believe it had been.
It's funny how I think of you sometimes; how thinking of you makes me think of Maria and Susy, and a strange little boy trying to come to terms with a life that ends in death. Other children have imaginary friends, I had my imaginary ghost. The dead girl under the floorboards. The runaway who'd never been found.
I know what magic is now...I know it's more than needing to understand that which can't be understood, but that's part of it too. That hunger is always part of it, it's just not the only part.
Sleep well in your Fitzroy grave, little dead girl. Think of me from time to time.
she didn't know that it was dead inside.
The sun rose again today.
I still don't know whether it's telling me that it's okay to remember, or that it's okay to forget.
I miss you Chantelle, in an odd kind of way; a dead girl from the other side of the country who never even existed. I still remember the call which birthed you. Your mother searching, and the rest came true in my mind. In our minds. The magic you brought to living that I really wanted to have been there all along. The way you made me believe it had been.
It's funny how I think of you sometimes; how thinking of you makes me think of Maria and Susy, and a strange little boy trying to come to terms with a life that ends in death. Other children have imaginary friends, I had my imaginary ghost. The dead girl under the floorboards. The runaway who'd never been found.
I know what magic is now...I know it's more than needing to understand that which can't be understood, but that's part of it too. That hunger is always part of it, it's just not the only part.
Sleep well in your Fitzroy grave, little dead girl. Think of me from time to time.
