sorry if this is more for me than the HE community, but i’ve gotta get this off my chest i think in order to move on.. thanks for being there all of you, anyways.
We never really got to say goodbye. / Of all of 28 years of my life / you were the single most fascinating thing. // I’ve never seen anyone dance / like you / and i’ve seen a few. // My own friends (an’I like to be with the good folks) / would almost enjoy / discovering you more than they did me. // A good deal younger than me / you were grown up when / I’s still an immature fool. // When and whatever you painted and drew / a paradise shone through / too true to be true. // That peace and warmness and humanity and gentleness and kindness and soul / of a few brushstrokes from you / I swear are truer than all in even this world’s best moments. // I’ve never seen such again / anywhere. Not in van Gogh, Picasso, not in your eyes, not in my soul. // Old ladies would stop on the street / to tell you they could feel / you, the stranger, were a healer. // You’d furiously battle 20 mean college chicks / to defend a single loner from a small insult / and then come home to cry in my arms for an hour or two. // Jung called Joyce’s daughter a singularity / well, she was not the only one. // When you’d dance in a hall / they’d form a circle for you // and when you’d lay with me / I got to share a dance with you.
I’d later meet people who told me / they’d, in your class of 200, / never respected anyone as you / and that they never let it show. // And that you’d shown them how / truthful this life could be lived / as you showed this to me. // My grandmas would call me to say / they couldn’t help being sadder for their own sake than for mine / because they’d lost a very special friend, too. // You’d be crazily quirky ’bout not being forgotten / I found little notes in most peculiar places / on which you’d note your affection / so as to not be forgotten. // You saved so many of your friends / some thanked you, some ran off / but who could’ve managed to save you? // We’ve both been betrayed, abused and abandoned / and it would seem strange / I should be the one to make it through / ’cause, what am I compared to you? // You’d teach me so much I know / I’d like to once hear you say / what I did teach you. // I feel exalted to have known / one could carry one’s spirit, heart and soul like this, / as truthful and warm-hearted as this. // I used to feel sorry that people did not know the good / of my soul, and now i feel sorry my soul / will never be as pure as yours / and will fail to uphold your memory / and do your legacy justice, // although I can’t stand the thought of this treasure getting lost. // You stole 20 pounds of chocalate with me / you went through court trial for me / you fought a war with me / i wrote your theses for you.
And despite all this, / and why, I wonder, / you never managed to believe // that someone or I / could love you for who you were. // You’d be stricken by self-doubt and fear / could never let go of your parents sad legacy. // We listened to Lindgren’s biography / and like the tension between her and her son / begot miracles / that tension between you and yourself / did the same // and I was blessed to share it all. // I just hope / I can manage to do / your memory and lessons justice. // I really do. These were wonderful years, / and I feel sad / not everyone could share them with you // cause I’ve never seen the like again, / and more than heaven on earth / is much more than rare. // Whom or what do I have to beat up / to make you return / and a little more stable? // Thank you for everything, may you be free