Little do you know how I'm breaking while you fall asleep,
Little do you know I'm still haunted by the memories,
Little do you know I'm trying to pick myself up, piece by piece
Little do you know I need a little more time
Underneath it all I'm held captive by the hole inside
I've been holding back for the feel that you might change your mind.
I'm ready to forgive you but, forgetting is a harder fight.
Little do you know I need a little more time

I sat all morning in the college sick bay
Counting bells knelling classes to a close.
At two o'clock our neighbors drove me home.

In the porch I met my father crying--
He had always taken funerals in his stride--
And Big Jim Evans saying it was a hard blow.

The baby cooed and laughed and rocked the pram
When I came in, and I was embarrassed
By old men standing up to shake my hand

And tell me they were "sorry for my trouble,"
Whispers informed strangers I was the eldest,
Away at school, as my mother held my hand

In hers and coughed out angry tearless sighs.
At ten o'clock the ambulance arrived
With the corpse, stanched and bandaged by the nurses.

Next morning I went up into the room. Snowdrops
And candles soothed the bedside; I saw him
For the first time in six weeks. Paler now,

Wearing a poppy bruise on his left temple,
He lay in the four foot box as in his cot.
No gaudy scars, the bumper knocked him clear.

A four foot box, a foot for every year.

your hand in mine is sometimes
the only thing keeping
my head above water,
but if my grief is ever heavier
than you can hold,
i forgive you in advance
for letting go.

This is how it happens:
first comes the shock. the ache has had no time to settle itself into your bones or braid itself into your hair. it doesn’t cross your mind as often as it should because you still can’t quite comprehend what’s going on.
then comes the worst wave of depression. the equivalent of a broken-hearted-tv-and-ice-cream-binge. you’ll use a few boxes of tissues and everything outside of your blankets will feel wrong for a while. you’ll cry until you run out of tears and then you’ll just feel numb and hollow like someone carved out your insides with a spoon.
third comes denial. you try to pretend like everything is still okay and your life is exactly how it has always been. you keep expecting a letter or good news because you slipped up again and
next is the doubt.
i guess the last step has to be acceptance - what else could it be? you have to turn your light on again and throw out your tissues and actually wake up in the morning.
i think that’s how it happens.

My first cup of coffee won't compare to you.
The second look I knew, I have you to woo.
Third hour, I think I'm turning to goo.
On this fourth thought darling, you have me pinned against you.

No hour shall pass without reverie.
No minute will I belie.
No second to consider.
That I am yours, and presumably, your are mine.

Halcyon moments,
Delphic oneness,
Inchoate fascination,
Wabi-sabi, without fail.

I am most vulnerable when I'm with you.
You must be something 'cause I sing around you.
Keep me imprisoned,
You and me and forever, I envisioned.

The day turns its light; I am yours again.
Can't wait for the moon.
You welcome me,
But bid me, "Bonne nuit."