i am not angry because
i refuse to be angry because
i don't have permission to be angry and
i refuse to ask for permission to be angry.
i am frustrated but
more with my self than anything else because
when will i learn to ask or assume
when will i allow myself to have certain rights- like
everyone has the right to be angry because anger doesn't have to be
logical, it doesn't need permission so i guess what i mean is
i am angry
but i'm not sure why and i will never
show it, this anger, because
you don't care.
it's all so fucking unfair and it's
bullshit and it isn't even an option
you aren't even an option and i do
know better, ultimately, but who the hell
listens to me.
and it's rather funny, in it's own way,
that i can't or won't and would never tell
you just like i never told him just like
he never knew and will never know
that despite all the things he knew and really
he knew a lot- well he didn't know
that.
so probably i'll never get it because
i'll never ask for it
from anyone, of anyone, because i do it without
being asked and that is the way
it should be.
i miss him and i love him and i can see what debbie saw as clear
as if i had been there and so in that sense i understand
something i didn't understand before but i still cry
in the shower where i do my remembering
and also when i am less sad i wonder if it's
weird to imagine or for lack of a better word
fantasize about someone you know is, well, dead- because
i do so hate the term "passed away"- and i do so hate that
there are many things we should have done that now
we can never do.
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