The First Week Of June (Where I Noticed All Of You)
The First Week Of June (Where I Noticed All Of You) poem stories
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wethedreamers
wethedreamersAnd we're a million miles away.
Autoplay OFF  •  a year ago
All of your true colors painted a tragic picture.

The First Week Of June (Where I Noticed All Of You)

by wethedreamers

Someone to promise to come back home and someone to believe.

Someone to break the news that was expected, but difficult to be conceived.

Someone to lead the way with glazed eyes of normalcy..

..who offers recited, polite, gentle, empty apologies. Another who ushers forward with paperwork and protocol To the one who hasn't processed the loss at the cost of weeping waterfalls.

Which will surely drown the children when all is said.

Who are safe and sound and fast asleep and at home in their beds. Someone who'll tap on their windows- RAP! RAP! RAP! -to rudely awaken them up.

A sound that will haunt, and trigger a response...

...of hating themselves for having their phones turned off.

Someone to offer company, and someone to offer space.

Someone who says that they're stuck in traffic, but are too distraught to complain.

Someone's crude sense of humor that was exposed too soon.

A giggled joke borderline offensive and oh so inopportune. But there's someone to take their sides do give the ever present "better place" speech...

..Said by someone who's only gained and never had to grieve.

Someone young, whose first formalwear will be for a service, and not a date. Because of a bout of pneumonia and a failure to defibrillate.

Someone to make arrangements, make appointments, make a mess

Someone to cook a meal for somebody else to bless. Somebody sleep deprived to remark how the house doesn't feel like a home. Someone with shaking hands to embrace the ache and write a poem.

Someone to call to remind to pick up remaining possessions.

Someone who couldn't stomach the action, who said they would, but ultimately left them.

Someone very kind to offer comfort whilst driving the hearse

Who will agree with an ironic chuckle when you remark, "It always rains at funerals."

One who'll have eyes to the sky of rolling silvery clouds.

That coincidentally matched the color of the silver casket shroud. Mothers hushing the children forced to mourn whom they don't know. Dirsrespectful patron playing noticeably on the phone.

A single file line of uniformed soldiers and shining rifles.

Who gave a salute in loud shotgun shots that no one dared cover their ears to stifle.

Someone who was late, who couldn't make it, who wasn't there

Who said they would, but truth be told, never really even cared.

Someone to mail a package of things that will hang on a wall

In the office of a doctor, whom others will ask what went wrong. Which the doctor will say with pride while holding back tears "Someone who fought strongly for me for well over ten years."

Someone to mail the flurry of other obituaries off.

Someone to skip the reception, who wishes for time to stop. Who sheds their fancy clothes into a pile and retreats into a robe. While sitting in the dark, nursing a bruised, battered soul.

Who will cherish and regret the silence of those not around.

To reflect and get upset of what was lost and what was found. That ruined me. The lunacy. The inescapable unity. That was only before just you and me.

How I wish it was once again only you and me.

C'est la vie C'est la mort Tel est terminé.

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