often i've wondered aloud
in my dreams n in my thoughts
in the pages that i ve torn apart
in the deafenin silence of my heart
was it ok for her to die before i was born
often i ve heard a voice
speakin softly to a coming child
speakin softly in her waking demise
speakin softly words that apologize
softly, ever so softly the words go flying by
often i've seen lights dance
with the blueness of sky
with the bleeding tongue inside
with the fine white foam rise
fine white foam in rain drenched snow
often i've curled up in bed
hoping to whip these thoughts away
hoping i'll see her another day
hoping to never hope again
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