Did you cry at all?
Writing that goodbye letter.
Did a single tear fall from your stone cold eyes?
As you signed it ever so casually
Like this was some kind of business transaction.
Scribbled on the back of an old receipt
Was that all you could find?
Or did you think that was all it was worth?
Your last words, the last thing we’d ever get from you.
The last piece we’d ever have of you.
And you couldn’t even give us a real sheet of paper?

The tape of that day never seems to run out of film
Like a scratched record that can’t seem to move to the next verse
The questions are stuck on replay in my mind

Did it hurt?
As your face finally met that concrete finish line
Did you feel it like we felt it?
A suckering black hole absorbing everything we had left in our lives.
Our whole world shattered like glass thrown to the pavement
Like a punch to the gut over and over and over.
Crouched in a permanent position of defeat
Did you feel any of that?
Or was that just reserved for us?

Well of course it was.
While you found yourself a dead end
We seem to have fallen into a patch of quicksand
A constant pull, further and further down
Tugging at the very core of our souls
Until we can no longer breathe. Or feel. Or think.
Nothing left for us except a sharp bitter filled wound
That time or words would never be able to resuscitate

And all I can hear is that man on the street.
You know, the one who found you there.
Motionless.
‘Don’t worry’, he said. “He didn’t feel a thing”
“It was quick, it was painless.”

But I guess that all depends on who you ask now, doesn’t it?