the night before you left, your disease warned me. it smiled in my face like a devil. your body limp; you were submerged somewhere far down below, drowned. "i'm going to continuously disappoint you." you said. i disagreed, i fought, tried blowing it away in a hurricane of my love. i felt your racing heart on the kitchen floor, blanketed you in care, kept showing you the waves.
those were tears in your eyes when we said goodbye the next day. i got to work and cried.
that kid who follows you around, dresses you in splendor, he's not your best friend, he's a blind eye. you'll find plenty of those, swirling like helicopters around your image, willing to look away for the shine. but friend? right now, the disease is your best friend. i hope you ditch it for good. i wish you luck, i wish you love. i'd do anything if it would make a difference, but distance was the demon's best friend.
