Only the memory of the joy she gave, but never of her face. His memories fade or shrivel up, her voice gone or out of touch, no mask can hide his pain. I will miss you longer than I knew you, god that’s insane, he whispered against her grave. How could he live another day?
Only the memory of her name, but never of her laughter. His joy sat resting in a far off places, a world he thought but couldn’t think. Six feet under lay flowers and ashes, all hope gone, nothing but chances. How could he live without her factors?
Only the memory of her favorite color, but never her smell. Her books of dust or dirt, her dreams gone or burnt, no therapy to mend his ways. She’s gone and gone forever, but it will be ok, he whispered against her grave. He lay right beside her flowers and ashes, and he bled his wrists with the knife he gave her. How could he have stayed?
Are you truly a dark cloud, or have I placed a picture against that face? Perhaps I painted against the canvas what I had to see. Perhaps I'm the gloom that haunts my nights and the fog that haunts my days. Perhaps you are another victim, another harmless prey. Can you sense my uncertainty? Can you feel my doubts? Can you hear my narcissism crying out? Perhaps I'm my own worst enemies, my own dark clouds.
I was lost but never unseen. They all knew of my heartache, they all decided to watch mercilessly as I sank. Then you came along. On a brisk walk, in a chilly Autumn day. Shall I ever forget you? Of course not. You brought color to the gray and sound to the deaf. You made the sun higher and the leaves greener. Did I ever deserve you. Perhaps not. But I’m don’t think I deserve the yearning for your warmth. The cold of your absence. Why must I be here, lost, but not unseen, without you to guide me. I only wish you beside me, yet I’m alone. I do not like it here without you near. Was it better to know you even if for a while? Or should I not have known you at all?
