Dying kills us all

For once, I want t o be there.
To be able to hold you in my arms,
To feel the warmth of your embrace,
And the memories of the love we shared.
One night, I want to be able to not cry,
To not think of you in sadness,
But have a memory to savor on the coldest of nights
When I know you are absent.
For just one blessed night being held by you,
To be able to hold to me the fragments of what we once shared
Without worrying that I’m too close or
I’m suffocating you, and knowing you are
Here for me ever still, chasing away the nightmares.
I daydream of you…

I imagine you on the other side of the computer screen,
Smiling at something you’re reading,
A single beam of light surrounded by gentle chaos in your apartment;
I can almost see you writing, your hands
Flying gracefully over the keys,
Almost like they themselves were the poetry you write.
A soothing tableau and I sigh,
Almost drawing your attention, but not quite.

Reality hits, and I read your typed words,
Tears blurring my eyes and I sniffle.
Those around me don’t understand my grief,
Don’t see how important you are to me,
See how I am affected by your mere existence.
“I overdosed”, I read.
I cannot believe what you’re saying.
(Pain, pain go away,
Come to kill another day…)
My arms feel hellishly empty,
My heart seems to be melting,
Tearing, bleeding for you.
Suicide isn’t the answer, nor the question,
But what kills us all.
I imagine you…

I see a once great man driven to his knees,
The demons at his heels finally catching,
Feasting on a hint of taint and amplifying hatred.
You try to purge yourself of weakness,
Tearing through the heart that has been wounded so many times,
Damning yourself in your actions.
“I try to kill the parts I hate about myself.”
All you can see is the blood once on your hands,
While I try to convince you of your goodness.

Now look at you, a proud man driven damned,
A soul still worth saving only if the owner acknowledges it;
Jose Cuervo seems to be the only the only one you let close,
And tears fall like rain from the clouds above as
I move closer to losing you forever.
I cannot speak, cannot move,
Cannot cry out as you drink yourself closer to an inevitable death.
A conqueror is what you were, what you are ever still,
A master of wit and words,
And life seems so bleak and empty for you.
Gone is the love of yesterday, and the pains of Hell
Come to take the place in your soul;
We all see you losing the battle with yourself,
And you know no other way to fight but to hurt yourself.
As an evening turns into night over the mountains
And time slips slowly out of our fingers,
Dying kills all of us,
Not just the fighter.

Written 9/25/07
L.E. Tibbitts