Charlie lived, and now he's gone
I can't quite process how this came to come.
And nowhere can find an obituary,
no memorium, nor celebration of life
For a man with such a generous heart.
At 44, he was gone.
Did he die because his heart was too big?
Charlie was there with listening ear
Always eager to give.
A sweaty hug,
his last cigarette,
the shirt off his back.
Love embodied, as a person.
As a regular in a dimly lit gay bar.
Sharing stories.
Welcoming newcomers.
Charlie was my good friend.
I want nothing more, than to hug him again.
I think about him every day.
Thank you. Charlie.
Dec 2, 2025
Dec 2, 2025 at 3:02 PM UTC
Charlie lived, and now he's gone
I can't quite process how this came to come.
And nowhere can find an obituary,
no memorium, nor celebration of life
For a man with such a generous heart.
At 44, he was gone.
Did he die because his heart was too big?
Charlie was there with listening ear
Always eager to give.
A sweaty hug,
his last cigarette,
the shirt off his back.
Love embodied, as a person.
As a regular in a dimly lit gay bar.
Sharing stories.
Welcoming newcomers.
Charlie was my good friend.
I want nothing more, than to hug him again.
I think about him every day.
Thank you. Charlie.
Perhaps not my most eloquent poem. But I'm processing the death of a dear friend. I don't think he knew how much beauty he brought to the world.
Request permission to use this poem