The <> marks in front of sentences mean a person is speaking from the past. Just thought I'd put that in there. :].
I remember telling you it was okay to cry, but you were ugly when doing it.
I've always said to myself, "Oh, what a wonderful world." Then I met you.
The tears on your face are speaking louder than you've spoken in years. Please, just take my hand. It's just another risk you'll have to be willing to take.
I know the mirror looks nothing like how you feel, but Baby, I'm the same way. And you have to realize that mirror can't see your soul like I can.
<How can you understand when I'm the one to blame? I make mistakes you don't know about.
The answer is: Yes, I'm insane,> You had pleaded with me; I remember the choke in your voice. Please, tell me those aren't tears . . .
<But that never mattered when I alone was the one to blame.>
You had said this with sadness and sarcasm in your voice. I also remember -- as brightly as the sun is shining now -- you had a glimmer in your eye like you thought I had been judging you.
//I'm not judging you now.
//You look beautiful.
I had smirked at those eyes at that time. That glimmer in your now noncontagious eyes had burned like a chemical fire, and I thought I'd never loose my smile. You then narrowed those dangerous eyes as if you were intimidating.
//You are now. And as if telling you could bring your breath back again -- I did loose that smile.
I remember those words like you had said them yesterday and maybe it was just yesterday. However, since you've left, the tears have never been the same. Somehow they're more bitter -- saltier, perhaps -- and they burn at the eyes. They're burning even now, as I take this hour glass back a bit.
<What's giving up if you're already lost?>
And as a quiet after thought:
<Some of us don't mind it, being lost.>
I wish I could have seen the real contemplation within your eyes. But I hadn't. Now, as I replay every aspect of your eyes in my head, I see it. I wish at that time I could have taught you how to sing . . . I've wished before I could teach the world to sing, but I always thought we'd all be out of tune. Now, I realize we're all just singing separate notes to a very minor chord.
You could have sang the world I taught you.
But you didn't.
Instead, you wrote lies on your paper, so simple and lined.
And then you sang:
"She puts the bullet right through her head ----
Wow. This is an amazing write. I really felt your emotion. The ending blew me away. It's so hard sometimes to realize the true emotions of the writer, especially when linked through two. :) 5/5. You are very talented. :) I can't begin to state it, but I will understate it... probably not very, but more than very. Brilliant? What's in brilliant that can't be defined? Take care.