i am a witness:
drunk with sorrow
faces colored with agony.
the boy sleeps with bliss in his eyes
and here the quiet passenger lies
cast in a mist of shadow.
our screaming hearts circle in silence
questioning the reality of this grave occurrence.
apologetic glances fly through a desolate room
eye to eye, it's always too soon.
trembling voices occasionally interrupting the dead air
knowing it's to no avail but still we dare
while we force the anguish against our teeth.
in my dreams i heard him cry
this companion of mine.
resorting to medieval claims
i saw the wings placed in his spine.
we push feeble fingers into forsaken souls
the word is out "he was eighteen years old."
we'll keep listening to hear where you are
and we keep memories that beat so loudly
with such familiarity
left to linger so proudly.
so lets freeze together for awhile
and as the world wails for you
we begin to tear in two.
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