because the simplest bit of eye contact,

can see all the secrets hidden beneath.

There’s a line of people,
Ready to say their goodbyes.
Whispering silent farewells.
Standing in the aisle.
Some will see you again soon.
But for others,
It’ll be a little longer while.

Sleepless nights,
And endless tears,
While you’re just fine.
In that new place you’re in.

Say a prayer,
You’re no longer suffering.
All of us will carry on.
Say goodbye, one last time,
To your love.

Take the happiness,
I’d rather let you have it.
And close the casket.

Ink spilled upon the page.

Lines filled with words unsaid.

Pale, white canvases called your wrist.

Fine tipped blade brushes.

Being wrong isn’t so bad.







Being right is the problem.

Sometimes,

I get the urge to call you 'babe' again.