Postcards From No Man's Land
Turntable
You left.
You left and you left every single thing behind. You left your paintings and your words. You left your pills and your booze. You left your paper flowers. I hate you. I hate you for leaving me behind.
Gee, there are some things that I really should tell you, but you're just not home. Your home is in the ground now, and I envy that. You will always be in the same place, and I will always be able to find you there. I lost you, but I think I know exactly where you are.
But where have I gone? This I don't know. I can't find me anymore. Maybe I left too. Where have I gone?
Sometimes I think you took me with you. One day I will wake up and I will be buried beneath the natural earth as well. Under layers of sweet earth and grass and flowers. I can only hope that you are beside me under that cold and unforgiving dirt. But then I remember that I've got your soul inside my body instead of my own, and that may very well be the only thing that is keeping my heart beating. I am alive, but only by default. I am alive to keep you living. How strange it is that you are not breathing any longer, yet I am the one who most resembles a corpse.
My thoughts are a turntable, and you are the one who is always playing across my mind. Even when I wake up and Frank is holding me so tight, I wish that it were you. I kiss his lips, and I know that I love his heart and his soul. I love them because they understand. He knows that I only see your face when I look through my eyes. He knows that every time I speak a word, my tongue wants to form your name. Still, he holds onto me even tighter. Tighter than he knows.
I think I always knew you were going. I just didn't realize it until you never came back to me. Maybe I should have held onto you tighter so that you couldn't leave in the first place.
But that's just the thing, Gerard.
I think I held on too tight. Too tight, so you left. And when you left, you left me behind.
You left and you left every single thing behind. You left your paintings and your words. You left your pills and your booze. You left your paper flowers. I hate you. I hate you for leaving me behind.
Gee, there are some things that I really should tell you, but you're just not home. Your home is in the ground now, and I envy that. You will always be in the same place, and I will always be able to find you there. I lost you, but I think I know exactly where you are.
But where have I gone? This I don't know. I can't find me anymore. Maybe I left too. Where have I gone?
Sometimes I think you took me with you. One day I will wake up and I will be buried beneath the natural earth as well. Under layers of sweet earth and grass and flowers. I can only hope that you are beside me under that cold and unforgiving dirt. But then I remember that I've got your soul inside my body instead of my own, and that may very well be the only thing that is keeping my heart beating. I am alive, but only by default. I am alive to keep you living. How strange it is that you are not breathing any longer, yet I am the one who most resembles a corpse.
My thoughts are a turntable, and you are the one who is always playing across my mind. Even when I wake up and Frank is holding me so tight, I wish that it were you. I kiss his lips, and I know that I love his heart and his soul. I love them because they understand. He knows that I only see your face when I look through my eyes. He knows that every time I speak a word, my tongue wants to form your name. Still, he holds onto me even tighter. Tighter than he knows.
I think I always knew you were going. I just didn't realize it until you never came back to me. Maybe I should have held onto you tighter so that you couldn't leave in the first place.
But that's just the thing, Gerard.
I think I held on too tight. Too tight, so you left. And when you left, you left me behind.