You Weren’t There

Standard

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.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s