Dear ‘The one who got away’
Finally I speak after all the years in drunken depression and hope fueled by an unhealthy addiction which I shall describe some other day. I sit in front of the same window from where I saw your beautiful face look at me in desperate anger for the last time. No I don’t want you back now, no I can’t take the pain of you leaving me again. I stood near that bloody door for days waiting to see you back in that pink sweater with the ‘I love my hell coz its mine’. I wrote that, no I stitched that shit onto it as you lay in bed next to me. What were you thinking when I gave my life to you? Did you think that in some despondent state of madness I would leave you and fuck off from the world I gave up every thing to make. They called me a desperate bastard who couldn’t grow out of the bitch who had screwed me over. The sex was never the same again and nor was the next morning. Waking up next to you used to be my greatest victory every day. A man has such little to show for his life and I had you, I had you and that was the inspiration for all the things I stole from my life. I aint demented when I say that the walls of my house became red the day you left. I no more wanted to see the light of the day.
I’m not obsessed with you because you tore me apart and went and I know its easy for you to know that it was my fault. I didn’t wake up that day thinking it to be the last. You were my hope sweetheart, you were all that this hopeless bastard had at the time. Life has ticked on since then but it has been such a bitch because I knew only 2 things, loving you and writing my music. Now all that I have is the fuckin taste of being denied a life. It never was perfect but it still was worth the fight with you. I don’t remember a day we didn’t fight in the end but you always waited for me to sleep before you cried. I knew you cried baby, I heard you every night but I loved you too much to deny you that. I wish I could do the same but I never had a heart that told me when to be a man and when to be your man. It isn’t funny anymore those nights looking into the next building and watching the world pass by, those nights are now the ones spent with a malignant need to end it all. But I still wait on because then I remember the good times. The wine, the horribly sweet one which you loved the one I put the beer into that time the one you splashed on my face and then licked it off saying, ‘It’s not that bad anymore’. I remember that birthday cake we ate on the roof, the one you thought I had forgotten. I never forgot baby and I will never forget the dining table we broke and the late night drives looking for lonely spots just to keep the romance going. You know I would have done anything in those last few days and I know that you knew it. But why didn’t those tears at night stop?
I’m on my 16th cigarette and I know it will kill me darling but before that you will kill me. Before you walked away I lived and I don’t know who I was living for but I liked the purpose and the fact that I could come home to you and I could get into bed with you. It made sense. I know I was a child but weren’t we both when we started the first time you agreed to walk home with me? We were meant to be in all the shit that was and all else it was going to be. Baby it has been a year since you have gone and this is the first bit of writing I have done. My nightmares never end because in them are you and in you is my love and for the sake of keeping that dream alive, I shall continue living the nightmare.
You will always be the one that got away…
The Blog for the Unbalanced 