He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. But God didn't take him away, he took himself away. If I really look at myself closely, I can see that I'm still shaking. And I've realized, you don't know love until the one you loved killed themself just trying to restore it. I'm not sure if that made any sense, but it made sense to me.

But I see him. I do, wheather it's him in his Hawk formation, or I see his presence within his once humane body. His eyes still speak the same poetry. I pretend his touch is still carassing my back. hugs are the best, and Jean gave the best hugs. But I want him to go and see his family. Not me. A hindering storm of emotions is luring me back, it's gonna be a while before the sun rises in my eyes.

And as for my dream, it was the same one was Thursday's. I watched him kill himself. Stepping off that table with the rope around his neck, and the note on the table. That was said to be mailed to me. My world is changing, my new (in)sanity is sculpting, and the swelling of my heart chokes me. I miss him, and always will. No more, no less.

I see it in your eyes
I feel it in your touch
I taste it from your lips
And baby more I love you.

The best friend I loved... Is dead