The look in your eyes
When you knew you had to die
The tears that we cried
When the time came for goodbyes
He tried to burn your bones but he couldn't drop the match
He tried to close your coffin but he couldn't click the latch
Because your name was called
And you didn't fight at all
You stood, scared but tall
And then you let yourself fall
Now he lives with the pain and it burns his heart away
Now he carries the guilt and his mind begins to fray
For if the latch had clicked and the match had dropped
Still your suffering would not have been stopped
The peace you were promised
The rest you were owed
They lurk in the mist
At the end of a long road
We will curse and we will cry and we will hold our breath
While we wait on the angels to raise you from death
Still chugging along through my poetry folder. I need to just blast some Jeff Buckley and have a serious talk with my notebook, because my lack of writing lately is pretty sad and dumb.
Mixed feelings about this one; especially the title, since apparently I have a really downer relationship with titles.
I wrote this about a TV show. Judge me, chumps. I have no regrets. I was actually really proud of this when I wrote it; lots of subtle nods to the show plus I totally called the season four twist. Anyway, I've kind of cooled a bit on the poem but I like it enough to share. Hollaback.