“He’s dead,” you said
and then smiled that
stupid smile that drives
me wild and told me to
stay a while and have
a drink, try to think how
I felt when I knelt and
screamed and cried my eyes
red while my heart bled
and you stood there with
that stupid look upon your
face, the one that I can trace
all the way back to when
you told me, he would kill
himself eventually,
because you’re always right,
both day and night, and after
all it doesn’t really matter
how deep I fall into this thing
I try to call a mix-up of my emotions,
because I drank the wrong potions,
I accidentally gulped down
the one for a permanent frown,
and now there’s nothing I can do
to make him come back to life.