of blackest coat,

stares into the distant.

Passive and unmoving like a God.

Weariness clutches on as I past.




You Weren’t There

I opened my eyes and you weren’t there,

that special blend you smoke wasn’t in the air.

that smell that grew on me,

the bed did not sink or rise when you wake.


I opened my eyes and you weren’t there,

on that chair across the room.

Bent over your notebook scribbling away,

as the morning rays slowly move across your skin.

Your pipe dangling on the corner of your mouth,

your guitar resting on your lap.


I opened my eyes and there you stood in front of your fans,

as they howl and cheer together.

Even with exhaustion weighting you down, you never disappoint.

You look back at us for approval and on you went with another.


Now, on this chair as the sun slowly light up the room,

I sit here with your pipe barely dangling on.

As I stare at your open notebook,

smoke rising and dispersing like a small camp fire.

Your body, your voice, your writing, your music, gone now on this day.


Your ashes spread across the beach in our hometown,

Remembering all the moments we spent, growing up.

Our first cigarette, our first song, our first moment,

Now, I just sit here waiting as the smoke steadily rises up into nothing.