You win some, you lose some.
You keep some, you leave some.
Some stay, some go.
You can say them best when in hindsight.
When the emotion isn't blaring quite so much.
Or perhaps, at first, before it kicks in.
One day, when you're feeling a little low...
when your immune system security has been breached,
you'll feel it.
The words will ring true, but feel trite.
And once you feel better, they'll ring true, and feel like a strength...
like steel reinforcements holding your bones together.
They talked of funerals and weddings.
We shook with fright for the loss of it all.
And the wedding dress looked like her soul was in mourning.
And the goodbyes resounded with hope and bright-eyed souls broke into hymns...
as you were lowered,
as they were lifted.
I'm not one to write or speak in that sort of tone.
I'm not one to dwell on the morbid without care.
My mind is too heavy for such things.
I feel too much.
But, speak your piece.
Speak your peace.
I remember some friendships with more fondness than past lovers.
As past lovers.
As another who perceived my mind and my heart and my soul and my personality...
and adored it.
And that is why friendships outlive some of the 'falling in love'-ships by years
And that is why the truest live forever.
And so, before I go about my day, I'll say this.
It isn't one.
It isn't all.
It's just some.
It's just an aimless wandering through those feelings.
It's just my thoughts, man.
It's just careless and yet so full of care.
So, if you're reading, don't go reading into it.
If you're listening, don't go digging to find the lines.
If you're unwrapping, well have a look and then, just taste it.
It may just be a fit of madness.
It may just be a spell of depression.
It may be that I am submerged in a well of revelry.
Whatever it is, it just is.
And, I'll have you know that there are some that I miss.
There are some that I am relieved of their departure.
and then I feel a little sick for the investments of myself into the dark,
strange and ungrateful black holes that occupy a human life.
There's so much more to be said.
More songs to weave.
It's all coming in waves, dear.
So wait for the next...
for the storms
for the doldrums
but they'll come.
In a thousand ways...
a thousand shapes...