I don’t blame you, my friend,
my lost pair of eyes.
I don’t blame you for claiming
your place in the skies.
I see you in clouds,
and the birds sing your tune.
You’re the light of the Sun
and the face of the Moon.

I know not of Heaven,
nor or rebirth past death,
but I feel your life still,
even past your last breath.

I have not lost you still,
you know I never will,
because every day of my life
you will fill.

Even if just a glance
of a smile half-faded,
or reminders of times
in which I was berated.
Oh, you always were mean,
and your words pierced like glass,
and I always thought you
were a pain in my ass.

But I loved you still,
that you’ll never undo,
and I always knew deep down
that you loved me too.

But I know what you went through
and how troubled you were.
I know of the pain that
you had to endure.
I know those dark thoughts
that managed to allure,
but the rest I don’t know,
and I have to infer.

If you know that I had almost
met the same fate,
you’d yell at me, angry,
but not out of hate.
The fury of seeing
a loved one depressed,
and wishing that they’d just
put their guilt to rest.

I could not follow
on the path that you chose.
I had to find meaning.
I had to write poems.

I have not profoundness,
nor genius to offer.
I’m just a soft soul
with a heart that’s much softer.

I am brittle and beaten,
as you always have known,
but I’ve not been defeated
even left alone.
For your strange love for me
has made me so much stronger,
and I think I can live
just a little bit longer.

But still, I don’t blame you
for what you have done.
I know what it feels like
to just want to run.

I wish you were here,
so I could look in your eyes,
and see those blue flowers
and birds in the skies.
That Sun and her Moon,
and those clouds of your face,
the tail running circles
and the dog on the chase.

All those beauties of living,
you held them inside,
and spilled them all out
on the day that you died.