I can't see them,
hear them,
or even feel them—
Yet I do.
I see them in pictures
scattered all around.
I almost hear it—
that soft sound...
And when I cry for them,
I feel that light—
my poison.
My memories of them
plague me.
If they loved me
so much,
Why must they
hurt me?
If they didn't like
to see me cry—
Why couldn't they
say goodbye?
I never met them,
yet I cry.
But I don't cry
for them—
I cry
to force the poison out,
out my weeping eyes.
Every time
I think of them,
what they meant...
it's enough.
Enough
to bring me
to my knees.
They left me
without ever
truly knowing me.
They left me
without teaching me.
They left me
without any
memories together.
I had a dream—
that we would
be together.
Yet you left us
to wither.
I had a dream—
that we would
laugh together.
Yet you left me
in half.
I had a dream—
where you fought
for me.
Yet it seems
like you forgot.
Like a snake,
you slithered
into my life
without me
knowing.
Yet I cannot
stay mad.
I cannot hate,
as the memory
of you
given to me
seems pretty great.
After all the stories
people tell about you,
I think it must
really be true—
that everything
you lived through
has archived you
as a real
sweet guy.