Special

I remember you, Achilles.
I know what it is like to lose somebody that you love
to feel as though one'd die for you;
I know how that feels, brother.

Sometimes I think you are lucky for not living, hero.
I think you are smiled upon by the mercy of the arrow which killed you
think you are fortune itself to not know the pain
that wound far beyond death, is to know the one you would die for is leaving you
that is the true reason I weep when you die for me, brother.

My tears are for the ones you lost,
the ones I lost
not because they were running like yours were, running for life
but more because they forgot me, they spat on my name,
fled when something better came along.

I made many, many friends
and lost more than I had
and all I have left now is my howling, saddened moon
heavy from my tears and angry for the weight.

My poor, poor moon
who I love so much....

He never left me.

Things better have come and he hasn't.

But anger festers in me like an infection
spikes my temperature, balls my fists together
because you have forgotten me
you who never have seen the heart I've always offered
you who have never bothered to treasure my smile
you who never have and never will want my heart
and not just people like Kate, who can't help rejecting people who love them really
but everyone I tried to befriend for these many years
I am not alone. People love me when they know me.
Two people in the world have tried to know me. Two.
One I fought for harder than most anything.... it was misfortune that brought her to me.

But fuck you for hurting me.
Fuck you, curse you, strike your hearts
for giving my poor moonlight tears...