• Dear Matt

    by  • August 22, 2010 • Grief, Regret, Those Gone Before Us, Waxing Poetic • 0 Comments

    Dear matt
    I never met you but I read your eloquently disguised suicidal idealizations and
    I found the mess you left behind all over my flesh and blood. I think you broke him. The corners of his mouth don’t fit just right anymore and I wouldn’t expect them to, even if they wanted, even if they tried.
    It’s all out of order of love and life and death and Midnight phone calls of a deep voice trembling wake my bones. I ache like his mother with weakly veiled care packages of the newest spring tees and chewy chocolate chips that reek of guilt and regret. I think you would laugh if you saw how much I hurt. Or maybe cry, or think twice, or stop before its too late, or take it back God Just please take it back
    You don’t really fit the mold and it devastates to see our neighbor’s, best friend’s, all American’s broken bones sprawled at our feet
    We all watched how you built your body up for country but abandoned it floating downstream.
    vulnerable, cold, and alone
    So much time and effort consumed to remove you, just to put you back in the Earth
    Retrospection dominates and invades my sanity Memories obscured by your neatly folded jacket Abandoned
    Like the rest of them
    God
    Just please take it back.

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