Dead Fair-Weather

5.1.14

This isn't a death wish.  It's merely a coping mechanism.

Maybe it'll be easier to think of you as dead.

My fair-weather friend.

To imagine your existence depleted

Instead of imagining what things you are up to or doing.

How you take your coffee in the morning.

How you sigh after your last cigarette in the evening.

Who you may be seeing.

Who may be gazing into your eyes.

It will be easier to recite each song written for you or that reminds me of you

As an epitaph of your passing rather than the revival of some faded dream.

I can live with the thought of you being no more.

For your being to be gone like ashes in the desert wind.

And not making people smile or

Lighting up someone else' s day with your words or presence.

I can live with the idea of your demise.

Of no more possibilities or opportunities,

For you dreams or mine to come alive,

For you to rise as I sink.

I can wake up every morning and enjoy the warmth of the sun on my face,

Knowing that it will not create freckles on your own cold skin anymore.

I can rest easy knowing you aren't wandering

Into something extraordinary and new every moment.

I can sigh with relief, after my last cigarette, knowing

That you lie still in the ground, never to be touched or seen by anyone.

Knowing that your lips will never be on any other's ever again.

I can sleep and know that you'll rest comfortably with me,

Beautiful and young and shit.

Just as I will remember you.

Far underground, out of my head and away from everyone else.

Yet, still seemingly mine.

The last beats of your heart will save me from insanity.

And your last breaths will be my revival,

My fair-weather friend.

No more will I wonder, no more will I imagine.
No more will we dream, or exchange words.
Rest easy now, and reside in my mind as ghost.
In my heart as a moment lost in time,
For what is dead cannot be brought back to life.