I've been expecting you.

2 Jun 2012

Love

They told me the world would end in 2012.
And it did.

You told me writing about Love wasn't enough.
Then you killed yourself so I could write about Death instead.

It's not about what I want to say to you now.
It's about what I couldn't tell you then.

That I loved you and I left you so that you would be stronger and find your way and I'd come back someday (obviously) and tell you sorry and tell you how proud I am of you and will you please take me back?

But that won't happen.

You are dead.

You are dead.

You are dead?

Dead.

I can't feel the meaning of this word.

Dead.

I see the letters make a curious shape, but its oblong and smoky and the world must be over because you can't be dead.

They tell me it's not my fault.
Perhaps they are correct.

But I'll never know.

And I told you but you never believed me - and now you'll never know.
Or I'll never know that you know now.

How much I love you.


31.5.2012


1 comment:

  1. Don't assume so many negatives. Rather than speculating on what cant be known, you can reflect on the past in terms of utterances which had ambiguous intentions and meanings. Its highly unlikely that the addressee never suppressed the truth from you. The truth of how he saw things to be.

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