I wrote this poem for the people that are gone. Some of them left due to circumstances out of our control. Others made the decision themselves. Either way, I’ll never fully understand.
feeling so alone , wonder if there’s a remote , i can pick up press a button for another type of show , . ,
running out of hope , choke on memories of bones , gave my everything to those relationships and they all broke , . ,
love , where’d you go , . , i can barely stomach going through the pho- , -tos , i was told , time , heals , but to
me , you just froze , . , i replay the moments when you turned to folk , notes , undertone , eyes , peeled , off the
moments we’d , sewn , now their giveaway , clothes , am i crazy i know i’m obsessive but it never gets , old ,
growing in , droves , . tsunami waves , roll , if you paid me for depression i’d be rich as Jeffrey Be- , -zos ,
, . , . i would deny you a loan , and give you the whole , sum of everything i own , . , never mind our
rocky past , you would be invited home , but the picket posts , that i dug for you will moan , . , when you come a-
-gain and then , fold
– D K T
D K T 