Blame the Bratwurst -------------------------------------------
Funny how in my dreams you're never dead
and we're living a bad take-out order
of chili dogs and styrofoam coffee, spending
half the night looking for the missing sugar.
Your tongue is blue from licking the sky,
and even though I want to taste, you tell me
I'm too young to blow the clouds aside
and get that sweet flavor of heaven.
Last night I dressed you in velvet miles
and borrowed a tiara from Ramona that was
drag-liciously loaded with shooting stars.
The bed sheets burned with tiny sparkles
that left small pin-holes in the fabric,
but when i woke and checked for damage,
I found they were still just the same.
then all the angels gathered at the drive through
put in their orders, passed the time
wondering how it felt to be a human
rather than the knowing smile of rhyme
This is, like everyone else already stated, lovely. I don't know the pain of having a loved one die, past a couple of cats and my grandpa, but I was too young to be sad.
However I do know the pain of loss, from a teenage perspective, and you do find yourself interacting with the one you lossed, if only in your sleep.
This piece was written very well btw.
"You're tongue is blue from licking the sky,
and even though I want to taste, you tell me
I'm too young to blow the clouds aside
and get that sweet flavor of heaven."
I don't know what to say.. This is really lovely, sometimes we want the take-out order fun of life to last beyond it's lifespan and we are left wondering where we went wrong instead of realising we never had enough time..
Submission Name: Blame the Bratwurst
