I used to listen to my life. I was so put together. I chose what I wanted to be in that age of chasing sand; the age of believing in everything,
but I couldn’t save you. I couldn’t save what was taken away, and I’m still singing, and you still can’t stay. You “loved life,” and those words have lasted. I just wish I would have had ears for more than what you said, because I still feel the lack long after. Such a light body, such a quiet gait leaving behind the weight of the world. I’ll always think it was too early to lose your shine. I guess the means that end us mean nothing. I just hope it’s the peace we all need, because I could love and drown in your God damned smile lines, but… I think I burnt up watching you rallying to stay alive, and I guess that’s fine. It seems we all get sick, we all die in some no name hospital with the same colored walls, and I guess that’s fine, but I want to swallow. I want to stomach. I want to live. It’s been a rough while and some days are worse than others. There’s no proper way to feel, no mirth, no levity, no amazing grace, just a flame on a lake floating away. I can’t let you lay. I want you to know, I’m learning patience against my will. I want you to know, I’ll get by, always barely scraping with just a hunger, with just a heart apart.
It’s a hell of a thing.
I’m sorry I can’t be as strong.