I used to know you,
the look in your eyes.
You looked strong,
like an angel that saw
too much for words.
So, instead I cried,
at the beauty in those grey eyes.
The world never so bright.

I know you were here.
I feel the shadow of you,
ghosting through my veins.
Your voice firm, resounding, clear,
but you touched me like a feather,
floating down from the heavens.
Sometimes too gentle to bear.
So very special, so very real.

I’m trying to look you in the eye now,
but I’m face down in the dirt.
A familiar heat of pain,
I’ve been here before.
The smell of earth, and death,
I’m trying to remember,
if this is the spot you died?
Died while never knowing why?

You were so special,
so needed, and believed.
We’ve been here before,
so why is this so different,
Why can’t I find you?
What the hell am I doing?
What the hell am I doing here?
Trying to look you in the eye.

I made it, I’m here,
back to where we last met.
The soil just as disturbed.
I’m nothing special I know,
but you don’t belong here.
You don’t belong in the grave,
dug for by those who didn’t know,
how much they loved you.

What words mark the spot?
I don’t belong here.
Did they listen to your last words?
What was your verse?
I belong with you,
the angel with the grey eyes,
but I’m just the creep,
wishing it was like before.

Wishing to see those eyes,
that knew what they were doing.
To hear you crumble cities,
with the whisper of a few words,
and watch you make others tremble,
when you dared to pick up your pen.

What the hell am I doing here?
Laying on your grave,
mourning the loss of your grace.
I feel like I can’t breathe,
as this play goes on,
I didn’t give you permission to die.
I didn’t give you permission to leave
me behind in this heap,

to leave me behind, running and unsure.
I didn’t give you permission to go.
I don’t belong here,
looking at my own name,
haphazardly scrawled
with another date added to the lines.

Please exist, please come back
we’ve run too far,
you were too special to be gone.
Please say you still exist.
Please say we exist.
Without you I’m just a creep,
a weirdo
whispering I still exist,
in the play I no longer believe in.