I'd Say

People who sleep don't know it, couldn't know it, 

it's a deep tragedy to me, or maybe I was just tired. You scrape rock bottom that late, you go in and go deep, you would do absolutely anything to slip off, but instead just crawl, beaten and worn on the cold insides, of every thought and memory you had been holding back.

The very last thing that I need to do is write a song singing your praises, but I haven't been comfortable since, I cared only for your affirmations, because you said I was whole. I didn't exactly see how you did, me, but I still haven't figured out whether I am mourning more my inability to save you from the world, what you let the world do to me, what you and I both let yourself do to you, or what I let you do to me. It's all very sad, and the worst of it is that I probably would not want it back now even if I could. So we continue to hide our shame from each other, and anyone else we possibly can. I still wish to ask you what feelings you would be feeling if you had them. I still want to ask you what and if you remember, me looking up at you, disclosing such honest feelings, I was always accepted back them. I still think what to tell you, or what I wouldn't been telling you now, I imagine what you would admire, and what you would look so down upon. I pretend to hear what you used to say, but I can't hear any of it any more.

"Voices, I'd say
voices is what I'd say I miss most,
it's what you forget first.
Then the faces,
blurry, less clear,
you've got photos,
no one ages.
Even the memories fade out,
we change them,
make them nicer.
But the voices
once you've lost them,
they're gone forever."