It Doesn't Matter Now (Your Memory Still Haunts Me)

I can hear his infidel heart pounding in my ears,
keeping me from sleep,
like crickets chirping outside.
Where is the relief of a sizzling silence?
I can't get away when your sweet voice
echoes the name of a lost boy.
Thomas!
It doesn't matter now that you're both dead.

The fire is growing in my eyes,
is it wrong to feel a guilty delight
that a good criminal can be so bad.
How can I deny that we wallowed
in the muddy pools of joy.
When sunlight hit we were caked in,
but you were gone.
Floating off with Sirius
you insist " He's more than just a dog."
I left you without gravity from dawn and beyond.

My bare blue knees are tangled in the ruffled sheets
and I'm shaking from your memory.
You and the little God were golden
but one drop of a storm
and you'll rust.
The gap was within my heart and my whole world shifted.
Remember my opaqueness,
and all those singing birds come flying out ringing.
It was a hot year
my ears felt like bleeding hot wax,
someone light a candle.
The sunlight beat down on me like a bruise.
Everywhere I turn.
Sometimes I hate you.
But it doesn't matter now.
Because you died.