III.
Now that you’re gone you’re safe in my head again
And I can hold you, a pure and pretty idea, untainted by fear.
I can let you die in my arms, an apology on your lips
Whispering about the things that should have been done
While I cradle your head and curse circumstance.
In this fantasy world we were secret agents
Watching each other, across a bed of coals
Gratefully blaming the world for keeping us apart.
The fatal gunshot you walked into, I could have stopped
But I couldn’t have saved you from yourself anyway.
I watch your eyes drift shut, dark lashes like gates
Knowing I will never hear the low, soft rumble of your voice again
Or the brush of your cold fingers along the back of my neck.
Regret nests in my chest, a cool lump, like glass
That I will keep close and dear to me, forever.
It’s so romantic, you know, to part like this
Rainwater, tarmac-warm, soaking through my knees
Collecting in the stillness around your lips
Years later, in the narrative leap, I will remember you now
Perfect and brittle in unshakeable sleep.
But here, at the end of it all, your weight resting against mine
I wrap my arms around and let the blood seep through
Your body is empty but my heart is full.
My lips linger, unwilling to leave your brow
Where I can only whisper to myself: “Everything will be alright.”
Posted on December 29, 2011
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