He died in the arms of Love. It was a place where he'd never lived, but he was allowed to die there. They built him a marble tomb, but it was cold so his soul spent all its time down by the river, watching the sun dancing on the waves and wondering how he'd got it all so wrong. Just another ghost haunting Love, looking sad eyed through her window when her candles were lit. Did she ever see his face, on the other side of the moonlit glass? Not very likely.
He died of the quiet, and because things went on just the way they were til it seemed like forever would never get here. He died from eating dinner alone in the dark, in front of the tv. He died from his own lonely touch, hoping for some kind of communion. He died because February wouldn't go away, no matter how hard he tried.
And now he sits by the river with the other ghosts, hoping one of them will look back when he looks her way. At least it's something to hope for.
No comments:
Post a Comment