To everyone I've ever loved...
Something I don't want to admit, but I still love you with all the effort my soul can muster.
I love the essence of you, filled to the brim with you-ness, overflowing with the sort of deep pungency that greets me everytime I open my coffee-container straight out of the freezer. I drink mine black and unadulterated, just like my father has for many years. It still bites at my throat the same way it did when I was small, watching my father read the sunday papers, perusing the ads and complaining about the Republican columnist in his long-winded, over-explaining kind of way while my mother just sat there saying, "Yes, Richard, we understand... really," in her sort of patient, half-amused sort of way. It left my tongue dry and bitter in my mouth like something unnatural and earthy, covered in an invisible liquid chalk, all at the same time. Some things never change.
I would never admit any of this to you if we were face to face.
I would never admit that I used to count your heartbeats as we were laying there the same way that I now count my nickles and dimes and pennies to make ends meet. Some things you never knew, even the ones I told you about. I would never admit that sometimes the only reason I made music was because of the way you looked at me. There's a reason I drink my coffee the way I do.
Sometimes I think if you were here I wouldn't have to.
I love the essence of you, filled to the brim with you-ness, overflowing with the sort of deep pungency that greets me everytime I open my coffee-container straight out of the freezer. I drink mine black and unadulterated, just like my father has for many years. It still bites at my throat the same way it did when I was small, watching my father read the sunday papers, perusing the ads and complaining about the Republican columnist in his long-winded, over-explaining kind of way while my mother just sat there saying, "Yes, Richard, we understand... really," in her sort of patient, half-amused sort of way. It left my tongue dry and bitter in my mouth like something unnatural and earthy, covered in an invisible liquid chalk, all at the same time. Some things never change.
I would never admit any of this to you if we were face to face.
I would never admit that I used to count your heartbeats as we were laying there the same way that I now count my nickles and dimes and pennies to make ends meet. Some things you never knew, even the ones I told you about. I would never admit that sometimes the only reason I made music was because of the way you looked at me. There's a reason I drink my coffee the way I do.
Sometimes I think if you were here I wouldn't have to.