I was a thought in my mother's imagination when you were in your prime and now that I'm in mine I need you back more than I need mine. You would've known what to say when that man entered my sacred space. Can you believe they haven't figure it out yet?
Whitney you danced for you and no one else. No one could love you like you did, not even your devoted fans. You let no one call you broke and call you a ***** fiend. Instead you powdered your face and continued on with your day. But baby yours isn't translucent.
Sister Houston you died when we needed you most. It was you who could lift every voice with just yours and sing for all the colors in the wind. You left me all alone before I got a chance to fall in love with your overbearing spirit. There was no room left in my body for God after I filled myself with hate.
Whitney I never learned how to love. I tried listening to the legacy you left on my iPhone and reading articles on how to be better. I been screaming for somebody's love for so **** long that I'll dance for anybody. In this story, I've become you Whitney. This is The Bodyguard now and ol' boy from Field of Dreams is coming for me. To you my love, if you build it I will always love you.
And lastly Whit, what's the afterlife really like? Is worth it? You know, leaving me behind?
When we first met, we barley saw each other We were in a space where it was so easy to look over the other Where boxes blocked our view of the other's perfection & the world around us caused static in channel only we belonged on.
As time went on, you began to annoy me. Annoy me to points beyond belief but from you, it was allowed. You made sure I smiled at your antics and I made sure to keep them in my heart. You saw my face painted to be another person but you saw me for my true form and began to play for me.
If over 90% of human interaction is non-verbal, you're eyes are louder than anyone's I've ever heard. Your eyelashes hit your water line harder than my pencil brush Your lip hits the guillotine of your perfect top row every single time our bodies are within ten feet... you're good to me. I can hear the sounds of an acoustic guitar coming form your chest I see the reflection of violin strings in your lenses The wind chimes grow from your scalp and sound perfect no matter how many time you cut them off and I can't get enough.
I want to hand you the key to my soul so you can know the truth So you can find out that my ventricles play the piano while my veins strum cello strings. My mind calls for the bongos while my feet bleed for salsa.
I want to dance. I want to dance to the songs that you'll play for me. The ones that only you and I will ever hear in the confines of our own studio where the walls are far from soundproof but it will never matter.