End of an April

Something about this particular weekend struck me hard.
The week that the days grew horribly long and I hadn't even been back in your presence a week yet.
Your face, this night, looked just the same as when we first met; scruff and contact lenses.
It makes you look older you know.
The hot guy who actually picked me
until God called you to go somewhere else
and you needed un-distracting preparation.
I understand.
I needed this to happen too.
This long weekend night was when we had to move on.
The whole time a Gotye song running through my head
and Robert Frost poems about choosing between two different roads or something coming out of your mouth.
"Do you ever feel like you don't know what to say at all?"
Yes.
"It's moments like these where I know I need to just get up and go but I can't seem to move.."
"Because standing up is the beginning of something we don't want."
You were so beautiful with my heart in your hands.
I have to be careful now, it's brittle again.
The drowsy cold medicine is the only reason I still feel sober
or somber
or deflated
or I should just accept the fact that there you go forever,
and I miss you like hell already.



-bw