The beauty and the curse
of those we lose to early death
is the perfection
left in their wake
✨Deferential Devil✨
The beauty and the curse
of those we lose to early death
is the perfection
left in their wake
✨Deferential Devil✨
I watched them wither
and turn yellow with age
they fell to their death
not out of fear or rage
but with a graceful fluttering
like dancers upon a stage
✨Deferential Devil✨
The way someone died
is never as important
as their actual loss
We ask “How?”
as if knowing will take away
some of the grief, and wonder
whether there was something,
anything we failed to do
to stop their demise
✨Deferential Devil✨
He carried me on his shoulders
and loved me through and through
I always felt important
when I saw his eyes of blue
So when the call came
and woke the dead of night
It painted a ghastly picture
of a tired mans glassy flight
The holiday became a sad one
and pain lingered every year
sometimes fading, sometimes present
but always exceptionally clear
✨Deferential Devil✨
I’ve never wanted to die.
But, I wanted everything
to stop
I wanted to hide from life,
and push everyone away.
But, I’ve never wished for death.
✨Deferential Devil✨
There’s a hollow space
which weeps for those
lost to time and to this life
And when I think on those souls
I feel my heart squeeze with longing
A protest to a moment of remembrance
and an absence I feel with every fiber
✨Deferential Devil✨
People talk about loss,
or they don’t
they bury themselves
after burying loved ones
some never recover
some have so much loss
it becomes surviving,
not recovery
✨Deferential Devil✨
It’s haunting not knowing
not able to say goodbye
to wonder what you might do
with one more day
one more hour
or even
a moment
✨Deferential Devil✨
In my dreams I run,
I search, but never find
while the earth burns
and the sky weeps
and I sink deeper
into the apocalypse
of my mind
✨Deferential Devil✨
Sometimes the void
left by their absence is
a black hole
eating away
at the stars that bring
light
✨Deferential Devil✨