--came home and read it to my wife and we both teared up. It brought old wounds forth.
I think this will be a song.
If I sing soft enough and in a whisper
It makes everything sound important
but none of it is
It doesn't matter that you died in my lap
It doesn't matter that it was at my own hands
The best days are the cold ones when the sky is blue and the ground is hard
You made me work one last time
I miss the way you fit
I met the new neighbors today
They will never know you
Remember your first surgery?
How you crawled across the floor?
If I sing loud enough it will make me sound angry
But I'm not, so I will sing softly
I miss you