Distant, watching from where I couldn’t reach,
Eyes wide. Furious. Accusing.
But It had been given life by what?
Madness. That empty space filled
With you. Your face. Your voice and smell.
Your hate, your taunting laugh
Making a mockery of your memory.
I’d wake and collapse in on myself,
A broken bubble, guts a dying star,
And I’d begin to fear
What else sleep might take from us.
But It showed me it was stupid,
Like I am stupid, and had returned
To the living, waking world just for my eyes
And for my benefit alone.
Seventeen years of this. The “you” exists.
It ages. It changes and I forget
What you looked like when we were wilder kids,
And how you were when you were really alive.
And I was just a kid, rapt and grateful,
Horrified and broken by the chance
To make clear that I cared for you
In that awful, mediocre way
That a kid like me is capable of.
My best friend. My only friend.
And It listened, and It smiled,
And the smile is only cruel.
And man, don’t I wish “you’d” die.
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