Shoveling Pseudoinformation to the Ignorant in the form of Speculation

I remember that spring morning all too well
As much as I wish I could forget
It was the Monday after prom
I came into math class, the teacher was eyeing me sympathetically
Then the principle came in with tears in her eyes
What was going on?

She started balling, I could barely make out her words
Then I heard her loud and clear
You were dead
No. No. No.
Surely I misheard
Surely this was all a big misunderstanding and the boy in that car wasn't you
Surely you'd stroll into class 10 minutes late as usual
But it was you in that car
And you never strolled into class again

I remember when I told my best friend, the girl you loved and who loved you
As I told her you were dead I watched the life drain from her face quicker than an avalanche falling,  and it has yet to return

And now her face is a reminder
And now your empty desk is a reminder
And now that bench where you used to sit all the time is a reminder
And that one less chair at our graduation is a reminder
And that picture of you in the hallway is a reminder
Everything is a reminder

No one really knows what happened to you that night
Do people really crash into brick buildings on accident?
Maybe you lost control of the car
Maybe you lost control of your life

All I know is seventeen is way too young to die
All I know is we should've been talking about prom that morning  
Who kissed who, who wore what, who's after party was the best
But instead we were mourning the death of a classmate
That morning we lost you, and along with you, we lost our innocence too

I see the way they look at you
All googly eyed and giggly
Their want is so obvious
Like school girls clawing for your attention

Then I see the way they look at me
With such bitterness in their eyes
I hear the whispers
The catty words that roll off their tongues sting
I try not to take it personal, I've seen it done to the girls that came before me

It never made sense to me, they don't even know you
They know you for the way you look and the way you walk
For the way you dress and the way you talk
I'm scared if they really knew you they'd fall in love with you for real
Actually, I know they would, I did

I hate the way they look at you
I hate the way they talk about you
I hate the way they want you
But most of all I hate the way they make me feel

My insecurity reels it's ugly head
The thought that you can have any of them always lingers
I'm scared that you'll slip threw my fingers
And into theirs

A silence with you
Is not
a silence

But a moment rich
with peace

he looked at me,
with eyes of red.

he spoke to me,
his words harsh.

he looked at me,
with voice of dead.

he spoke to me,
his eyes of the marsh.
-
his teeth were sharp
my tongue was his harp

his claws on my skin
my heartbeat was his sin

his eyes were red
my wrists pinned to the bed
-
he looked at me,
expected fear,
there was none to hear.

his eyes are
galaxies of planets
and orbits
and you see stars
so clear you can
map every single
constellation

he looks at you
like you're his home
like you're a planet
and you've
wound him deep
into your orbit

because that's what
he needs and he knows it

and he looks at you
like you're the only
thing he's got in the
world

because you are
you're his home and his planet
you're his galaxy and his stars

I can't seem to help myself;
killin' myself with thoughts of you,
I can't seem to stand myself;
myself, so reminiscent of you;

I'd **** myself to move past this.
I'd love to just make it end.

But I won't, this is
too great an opportunity
too great a Holy reality
too great a gift
too transient to begrudge a ******* thing