You told me I sounded like suicide
The night I counted down
From 10,
To what might have happened.
Looking through the box of torment you left behind when you died
Could you leave me here?!
Your heart is still a firefly in my jar,
Your tears are still the blood in my veins
Your mothers name is still the sign above my door.
And I still don’t know where they buried you.
I remember walking from the church and away from your equator arms
Feeling as lost as E.T, replaying in my mind the motion of the last time I saw your hand wave goodbye
Like the windshield wipers of a flooded car in the last real moment I believed the hurricane might let us out alive.
If they told me where they buried you, do you think I’d sleep?
Your brother told me yesterday that he would still knock on the door of your flat sometimes,
Half believing that you might open the door
And I couldn’t even tell him that I thought he was crazy because I don’t,
Sometimes brotherly love isn’t always perfect,
Sometimes it’s just going… Going.
I stood up at your funeral service and told them that you were about as innocent in your death as two choir boys fucking behind the altar
And everybody looked at me like I’d killed you myself,
But me? I found myself standing shoulder to shoulder to with your mother
Knowing that her other sons would carry your body to an unknown location
And after everybody had gone she would stand and curse you for the same reasons I do,
Because we loved you too much to be polite about it,
Even standing before god.
Friend, you loved so hard that when they press their ear to the track the train they hear coming will still be your chest,
You loved so hard that your name was spoken in hushed tones in the locker room of hate,
You walked like a god and knelt like a disciple,
You left an IOU for eternity in the space of time that separated you from your lover,
As the pair of you tried to cover up what became of the person you were.
Friend, you were beautiful,
You never spoke unless it would improve upon silence,
Never moved if it wouldn’t better the stillness,
You were not one who loved wisely but far too well,
And I never expected to miss you like this.
Some days, agony drove screams from you louder than dynamite hissing through a funeral,
And I would hold your hand and tell you that you were a miracle and I meant it!
But I know you found Satan in a needle and he spread his wings around you harder than I could ever hold you.
Above all,
I didn’t want them to tell me where they buried you,
Because I want to keep digging at my own chest for the sound of your pulse,
I want to believe that you were worth more than a stone & a length of hired dirt,
And there is NOTHING that I could ever bring to your grave that is worthy of you,
And no grave that could ever be worthy of the orchards you planted with you words.

But everything is fading away now.
Our memories are walking away from me,
And sand storms of regret are rising behind my eyes.
But I will never stand at your grave and wish.
I will NEVER, stand at your grave,
And wish.


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