You were the one who hung from our hearts
     by the twanging strings of a neon guitar.
You were the one who brandished the megaphone
     and sang your song,
     and what we heard was
          Hey man, don’t sweat it. I’m here.
You were the one with the baby face
     wearing lipstick and eye pencil and god, that hair
     and somehow,
          still looking like a badass.
You were the one who left,
     without a hi-ho or good bye.
I’m the one who sits rapt
     struck dumb by the crackle of your chords.
I’m the one who smiles and laughs
     when you smiled and laughed
     (because somehow when you smiled and laughed
          it was all okay again).
I’m the one with the broken heart
I’m the one with no resolution
     thinking she’d be better off
     if it had been her.
     (she wouldn’t cry. she wouldn’t cry.
     she’d live a little, then she’d die.
     and no fucking world would wonder why.)
You were the one who made the world wonder.
Now I’m the one wondering
     what it would be like
     to see your living breathing body
               instead of a shadow
     to hold your hand through it all, thinking
     we are the ones
     who can conquer the world.