i've realized that the rest of my life is a long time,
that i can't quite recall what your voice sounds like,
and we'll never have another conversation.
she says i was you world once and maybe
that's true.
i didn't always feel it but i know you
couldn't always show it.
i don't blame you anymore.
i wish i could say more to you now than
a few uttered prayers,
the way we talk to idols and
invisible figures.
you were real once; that makes the point
hurt that much more.
that i'll never hear your voice until i
need to be called home.
