i had a bit of a breakdown earlier today,
but i bet you're not surprised to hear this,
because i'm pretty sure you ghosts see everything
(kinda like god does).
but i bet you're also not surprised to hear this
because you knew that after you left,
until the last person who remembers you dies,
someone will be missing you.
you knew you'd break our hearts
and that we would long for the past when you were here
with every breath in our lungs
and freckle on our arms.
you knew you'd hurt us like this,
and put this infinite throbbing pain in our souls,
and still you left.
like a bridge over troubled water,
i will lay me down
(again and again and again)
because the sorry numbness of missing you is worth it,
just to reminisce on when you touched my hands,
and laughed with me,
and sang with me,
and cried to me.
i would go through every painful millisecond of missing you again
(and again and again and again)
if it meant i could remember you clearly.
but my memory is fading and your face is getting farther,
and it's harder to remember your voice and oh!
the prospect of losing you again is somehow worse
than losing you in the first place.
but this sad little glass is still half full,
because when i sat in the pew at your funeral
and sang your requiem,
god sat next to me and told me i would see you again.
and he told me to take my time
so i would have great stories to tell you
when i finally get to see you again.
old friend, other half of my sorry heart,
i'm making these memories for us,
and every day is for you, too.
but ******* it hurts to do it all alone.