This poem is a very personal one and has a story behind it, but then again, what writing doesn't? In May a very close friend and past boyfriend of mine passed away very suddenly. He had a brain tumor and heart disease that no one knew about until it was too late. He spent 72 agonizingly long hours in the hospital before the doctors pronounced him brain dead, I was there for every second. Since he passed I have gotten clean, because I know he would have wanted me to. He had a major impact on my life and was my love for sometime. Even though I didn't want to admit it, pretty much the whole time I knew him. We broke up after six months of 'dating' (I had known him for three years at this time) because he wanted something that I couldn't give. He apologized hundreds of times and said he didn't need what he had asked for before but I never forgave him, no matter how bad I wanted to. I ignored my feelings because I thought it was the right thing to do at the time. Now it seems petty and immature of me to have not of forgiven him. That will be a big regret of mine. But for sometime I have been wanting to write about him and his death, writing is my outlet. I haven't been able to find the write words to express what I needed to, and didn't really try but today these words fell heavily on my heart. I'm not looking for a critique by putting this one out there. Just someone to recognize this, I guess. Someone to tell me I will be okay, no matter how many times I've heard it before.
My heart aches for the hole that will never be filled,
The missing link that will never be found,
And the stolen life that will never be returned.
A young man with hard working hands was laid to rest this day,
A good man with soft loving hands went home to his father this may.
Just eleven days past his eighteenth year,
His life hadn't even begun before he left here.
Did he have enough time to do what was right?
Did he have enough time to give hell a fight?
But why was so little time enough to give up his life?
Just eleven days past his eighteenth year,
His life hadn't even begun before he left here.
Was he welcomed into heaven with open arms,
Or did fire scar his heart?
Did he have enough time to do what was right?
Did he have enough time to give hell a fight?
Did he have enough time to give his life to Christ?
But why was so little time enough to give up his life?
Just eleven days past his eighteenth year,
His life hadn't even begun before he left here.
Did he right his wrongs before he had to go?
Did he get enough time to forgive old foes?
Did he profess his feelings to the one he loved the most?
And say goodbye to the ones he held dear?
Just eleven days past his eighteenth year,
His life hadn't even begun before he left here.
I had enough time to forgive him of what I thought was wrong,
But instead I let my life move on.
I had enough time to apologize and look into his eyes one more time and tell him I love him.
But I didn't,
Until there was no more time.
And that will haunt me for the rest of my life.
-XoChange
