Needing your wisdom, that's all.
To speak to myself is to speak with you,
Doing the right thing has gotten harder with age,
would you agree?
of course you would, the man who wrote music and smoked countless cigarettes,
my broken idol.
The man is worried, uncertain, confused.
The boy is happy, curious, content.
I am sorry
A difficulty to love,
a difficulty to breathe.
Two things that should be so easy are near impossible
when you're stuck
in a pitied state of uncertainty
Not to be shameful of,
to be alone.
lost in the fallacy of laughter and discussion
is the pride it takes to get yourself out of bed every morning
and feel better.
To the bone,
wanting so hard to be like that.
With nothing, and everything to prove.
Who are you proving it to?
The hearty rhetoric of old photos, and musty boxes of records.
I won't even dust off your old shelves,
too afraid to take a piece of you from my home.
A certain persuasiveness in the shape of her face
it takes few words from her;
"I am already yours"
you're mine aswell darling
I would have died for you
risked my life for you.
Fed you while you were sick
put your clothes on when you were weak,
listened to your stories with you
laughed at how they mirrored mine.
life had a different version of this story
and you died
and I died with you
for a while.
When I came out of it,
my hands were stronger,
my heart was warmer,
you were still gone.