When you're not here tomorrow,
my heart will break and burst,
pondering how I could have helped,
making your absence only worse.
I'll cry and scream and lament,
calling out your name,
but the grave is a slammed door.
I guess somethings stay the same.
When you're not here tomorrow,
I'll sit in your doorway,
throwing paper airplanes in the abyss
tattooed with one word: stay!
Those planes will eventually fall like you did,
and to myself I'll assign the blame.
You won't stop or correct me.
I guess somethings stay the same.
YOU ARE READING
When You're Not Here Tomorrow
PoetryAn homage to all those left behind by those taken too soon.
