I've got a rose for you. Sorry I couldn't get you any wildflowers, they
were all out of them at the flower shop. And I remember that you liked
roses, but loved wild flowers more.
It's raining. And you know those really slow foreign songs with those European women? Like that Enya music you would make me listen to? That's what should be playing right now. Because when that foreign bitch hits that high note, nothing but the pain I feel will matter. Only you would be going through my mind.
Even though it wouldn't be in English, I would know what the woman is singing about because I know what she's going through. Usually, I wouldn't think twice about sappy songs like those. I wouldn't suddenly forget I'm driving and close my eyes and let the pain roll over me. The fact that you're gone. My throat wouldn't suddenly hurt like hell. And that urge, that urge to hit something so hard that my fist would break wouldn't make my body tremble and tears to prick behind my eyes.
I couldn't tell you when our anniversary is. I was never good with dates anyway. I couldn't tell you whether or not you did you hair. I couldn't even tell when you dyed it that one time.
But I remember that your eyes would always throw sparks when you went after a story. That your feet were so small and cute and they always tended to kick me while you slept. Whether or not it was intentional, I would never know. You would drink your coffee with a little bit of milk but no sugar because you liked the bitter taste. But you added milk because you didn't like how dark it looked.
You never lied to my face.
You always made your bed because you had a soft spot for the maid. You never woke up before ten a.m. on weekends, unless forced. You hated breakfast but you always woke up at three a.m. for a snack.
You loved me and I loved you back.
I don't know why I'm telling you this now. You've been gone for such a long time. I don't know why I'm here staring at where you're body is. All I know is that I want to know when the hell are you gonna come back to me and tell me that I'm not always going to feel this way? That I'm gonna be fine because you will be there, in a way, and we'll be together in the end? That it's okay when I act like the evil prick that I am because you'll always love me anyway? That it's okay when I forget to visit you and to bring you flowers at your grave, because I need to live on? That it's okay I'm not perfect, because to you, in your eyes, I am. I am perfect.
Chloe, it's hard to be good without you. You're the angel on my shoulder that kicks the hell out of the devil on the other shoulder. You're the one good thing I had in my life and suddenly; you're just not there anymore. You left. You left me, you left Clark, and you left your father.
And now, I'm leaving. I'm not coming back anymore Chloe, I just don't see the point. This world is shit. It took you away from me in such a harsh way. It took your life away, aren't you angry with that? Can't I just pretend that you're pissed about what happened? Can't I just pretend that when I wake up tomorrow morning, you'll be lying next to me? And when I touch your arm, you'll peek up from under the pillow on your head and smile your first smile of the day.
Can't I pretend that you're still wearing the wedding ring I gave you and it's not really in my pocket right now?
Can't I just pretend that you're alive?
Let me just lie to myself. If only for a little while.
It's raining. And you know those really slow foreign songs with those European women? Like that Enya music you would make me listen to? That's what should be playing right now. Because when that foreign bitch hits that high note, nothing but the pain I feel will matter. Only you would be going through my mind.
Even though it wouldn't be in English, I would know what the woman is singing about because I know what she's going through. Usually, I wouldn't think twice about sappy songs like those. I wouldn't suddenly forget I'm driving and close my eyes and let the pain roll over me. The fact that you're gone. My throat wouldn't suddenly hurt like hell. And that urge, that urge to hit something so hard that my fist would break wouldn't make my body tremble and tears to prick behind my eyes.
I couldn't tell you when our anniversary is. I was never good with dates anyway. I couldn't tell you whether or not you did you hair. I couldn't even tell when you dyed it that one time.
But I remember that your eyes would always throw sparks when you went after a story. That your feet were so small and cute and they always tended to kick me while you slept. Whether or not it was intentional, I would never know. You would drink your coffee with a little bit of milk but no sugar because you liked the bitter taste. But you added milk because you didn't like how dark it looked.
You never lied to my face.
You always made your bed because you had a soft spot for the maid. You never woke up before ten a.m. on weekends, unless forced. You hated breakfast but you always woke up at three a.m. for a snack.
You loved me and I loved you back.
I don't know why I'm telling you this now. You've been gone for such a long time. I don't know why I'm here staring at where you're body is. All I know is that I want to know when the hell are you gonna come back to me and tell me that I'm not always going to feel this way? That I'm gonna be fine because you will be there, in a way, and we'll be together in the end? That it's okay when I act like the evil prick that I am because you'll always love me anyway? That it's okay when I forget to visit you and to bring you flowers at your grave, because I need to live on? That it's okay I'm not perfect, because to you, in your eyes, I am. I am perfect.
Chloe, it's hard to be good without you. You're the angel on my shoulder that kicks the hell out of the devil on the other shoulder. You're the one good thing I had in my life and suddenly; you're just not there anymore. You left. You left me, you left Clark, and you left your father.
And now, I'm leaving. I'm not coming back anymore Chloe, I just don't see the point. This world is shit. It took you away from me in such a harsh way. It took your life away, aren't you angry with that? Can't I just pretend that you're pissed about what happened? Can't I just pretend that when I wake up tomorrow morning, you'll be lying next to me? And when I touch your arm, you'll peek up from under the pillow on your head and smile your first smile of the day.
Can't I pretend that you're still wearing the wedding ring I gave you and it's not really in my pocket right now?
Can't I just pretend that you're alive?
Let me just lie to myself. If only for a little while.