but what can i say about you,
a northern lad
who had
everything given to him
on a silver platter,
but wanted more, and was never satisfied
because of the giver,
quiet in your shame,
listless in your life,
angry at your God,
instead of taking time,
you took a wife.

a good man, and a strong man,
and a man who would give you all he could
so long as the idea was his,
and the convenience was his, and the effort was yours,
still, a good listener,
but those are so over-rated these days.
a smile that would go on for miles and miles,
that lit up a face,
infectious, contagious,
intelligence, sometimes overbearing in it,
pedantic,
still charming with it, at times,

fragile, in the way that quiet things are
earthy, in the way that untouchable things are
solid, in the way that you prefer a good house to be,
walls to lean on, floorboards to hide under...

but what can i say about you,
northern lad,
who had everything given to him,
then eventually took everything away from me,
what can i say,
what can i say,
what can i say...

11/11/2009

Posted on 11/12/2009
Copyright © 2026 Vikki Owens