how can this be too hard, too much, for you to read
it’s what I’m left with, it’s what I have to feel
you stopped relating to me
all you can hear in your head are those common words
sold in a mix and match in a multi-pack of disconnection
you don’t want to be part of someone else’s nightmare
distancing yourself with superficial words
words that have been repeated so often
their meaninglessness hurts
you think that death will never be a part of your life
you know, when I stand next to you
you, with all your lives intact
you feel more dead to me
than me, with all my losses
how come
the dead disappear
and the living make their stories disappear
because suddenly life itself becomes too uncomfortable
too unbearable to hear
that even a funny story has to be buried with everything else
when all we take with us is the memories that brought us together
how can you live with that
Croque-Melpomene 