Actually Sixteen

Less than a week after my mother’s death, a friend of mine, Linda, whose father was British and mother, Irish – Catholic – stayed with me and documented the aftermath of death. Just found this while opening doors to the past.


0 thoughts on “Actually Sixteen

  1. My love she lives so close to me,
    Only a universe away.
    We both live lives we love yet hate
    But don’t have the nerve to say
    Goodbye to the past, hello to the now
    No way to shed the tears.
    So much to live for, think of the kids
    Who get over larger fears.
    Why can’t we admit we’ve lost,
    Then start life anew?
    Why is the chance so hard to take,
    Why can’t I marry you?
    Because we’ve grown accustomed
    To the routine of rotten ways:
    Each of them so different,
    Trapped now so many days.
    So many nights “together”
    While really so alone.
    All who know detest this
    It chills them to the bone.
    I ask, I beg, I plea now
    Take this gentle hand,
    Remind me what it feels like
    To be an honest man,
    To quit living lies as if noble
    To finally take a stand.

Leave a Reply