I lay on you, and breathe in the smell
Of your hair, feel the small vibrations
Of your laugh resonating the soft felt pews.
I tell myself I will remember this forever,
So when I miss you, I can still feel you.
The mood grows serious,
The vibrations of your voice shrink down
To a whisper, and crumble
Like rocks beneath a hammer.
"When I die," you say,
Fleeing every so called good feeling felt
Away from this place.
"You're going to get bear,
But I can't tell you what you're getting yet."
She tells us.
Me.
Him.
The only ones here who know.
You told me yesterday, yes you did.
I smiled, I cried, I cussed at God,
I cried again, I bargained,
But I still did not accept.
I smiled and told you it would be okay.
But I think I know deep down inside
That you know deep inside
It might not be okay.
It came back. It's here, in this room,
Inside you.
And I keep making up scenarios where
Someone has asked me
"Would you do this thing if it meant she lived?"
And I always say yes no matter how
****** up the action may be.
Maybe this is the bargaining.
You're not dead yet, but ****
It feels like it.
It will be years.
I'm sure of it.
But I'm just so scared, babe.
I'm so scared.
No one so young should be labeled
With an expiration date,
A summarization of how long their life
Will be.
No one.
