Hello

"Goodbye," I said, as I cried.
Now, I sigh.
I know I lied.

I can't take life this far from you.
I can't keep thinking that our love was true.
While I was there, I felt nothing,
so why is it that now you mean everything?

Every word I hear, every thought I feel,
all of it makes me remember.
You were. We were. Our love was.
Real.

What I have with her, it's just a joke.
You left, and she was the easiest way
I could try to pick up the pieces.

Now, I think back to the night we last spoke.
My heart was hurting, but not for you.
Then, you showed yourself. You came through.
We talked so long, though short it was.
Maybe my love for you came back because
you were so great, there when I needed.
Now what I really want is total loss of memory,
or someone who can make me recompleted.

"Goodbye," I said.
Sometimes I want to kick my ass.
I don't want to leave you.
I still want you back.

-Jeffrey Grimm Blake, November 26, 1998

Goodbye

Your email said you've had a bad day.
Those few are the only words you say.
So little, these words; everyone has bad days.
But yet, to me, there's more that they say.

They say to me "come, try to help."
And all I want is to help.
A bad day for you, that's all that it was.
But to comfort you is all that I want.
To make you feel better, to see you smile,
for that I'd walk a thousand miles.

Your emails always seem this short.
But to me they always mean much more.
Every word flies straight to my heart,
and so, my love, I must depart.

I want you so much. I love you so bad.
In the end all it does is just make me sad.

To have you out of my life would spare so much pain.
It seems there's so much, from that to gain.
I'll miss you so!
And I don't want to see you go,
'cause in my heart I'm sure I know
that you're there forever, a strong part of me,
and that won't end just because you leave.

Yet every word we speak, every thought I feel,
it all just makes you remain real.
And if you're out there, having you not here hurts.

So there is a point to all these words.
I've decided that I
have no choice but to say goodbye.

Soon the pain I feel right now will end,
and hopefully your memory won't rise again.
Goodbye my love, goodbye my friend.
God, let my heart heal! Let me feel! - again!

-Jeffrey Grimm Blake, November 4, 1998

Despondency

Once, the image of you made me glad.
I, then, had something to dispell the sad.
Now it seems, all hope is gone,
for you, I know, have moved on.

It's over now, and yes, we're through,
but what I want to know is if this depression was caused by you.
Did it start somewhere from before we met,
or is it a sign that I love you yet?

Her face could aid, at least, that's how it seems.
The only problem is that it won't come clearly into mind.
So I'll sigh, and cry, but not unwind.
At least I can be happy in my dreams.

But so often, I lie awake.
This pain, this life, I just can't take.
Death would work, but I won't die.
I still can't turn my promise to a lie.

Corner after corner, turn after turn,
I go through life and each day burns.
Everything, all of it, just a daze of pain,
and it leaves me with no one - nothing - to blame.

I do what I can, I try what I may,
but nothing helps on days like today.
These words I've said emerged from my very soul.
This melancholy, it seems, seeps from the same hole.
As of yet, I know not what else to do,

so, for aid, I (in vain) try still to think of you.

-Jeffrey Grimm Blake, November 3, 1998