the aftershock of knowing that
nothing will come after this

19 years of hoping, longing, asking
where did that pain go? that waiting?
the bliss of knowing that
all that comes after will always compare to this
the worst part of my day is over
the best time of my life is 2 years younger

the begging, the feeling of hoping that
I can still taste you, smell the smoke on your breathe
the realization that
you took from me the only thing I thought would make sense

you look so small atop that mountain, the way down
and mine - I'd hope - so large - as I hit the ground
the aftershock of knowing that this never was a good thing,
you were just your lips and my sense was the protagonist missing.