Oh Freddie.........*sigh*
Ok, this is what I managed to write last night during my PMT attack......
Dedicated to Maud and Freddie :D
Freddie for his music and inspiration. And Maud for her deep, powerful conversations and Passion.... once we look past the fangirlishness and the rockingness of us.... :D
It has no title, am open to suggestions....
The nights grow long
But dreams live on
Just close your pretty eyes
And you can be with me…
~Queen “Teo Torriatte”
I always think of you…though you’re gone. But you never return like you promised, not even in my sleep. I try to focus on the happy memories, but they are the worst. Reminders of what I have lost… And the unhappy memories? They remind me of times wasted in bad tempers…
How can I continue now you’re gone? You always said I could and that I’d learn to get by. They still tell me that. I’ll never get over you, they say. I’ll learn to get by. How can I learn something I don’t want? I don’t want to face this life without you. I don’t know who’s more selfish. You for leaving me here, or me for wanting to join you…
People on the telly talk of feeling their lost one’s presence. I feel nothing of you. Everything is so empty. The things you touched and created. They’re just OBJECTS! That’s all they ever were! What about me? You touched me, you made me who I am…. and I feel nothing of your presence. You’ve abandoned me. You always said it might happen…. I just believed you when you promised you’d try so hard to wait, to hold on, until we’re both ready… I doubt now I’d ever be ready. How could anyone be ready for what you put me through? Finding you…. so peaceful…so cold. I don’t know how long I sat there, just watching you. I knew you were dead, but still I called the ambulance, the doctor, once the shock had passed. I ran outside screaming for help until one of the neighbours came. He said you were dead. It was too late, but I refused to believe it. I knew it was true, but I refused to believe. You broke your promise. You didn’t wait… you’re not here…. you’ve gone. Completely. And some days I hate you.
I was never prepared for your death. Not as you were. Maybe I should hate myself. I should have been prepared to lose the one thing that could ever make me truly happy. But how do I prepare for that? I came with you to the hospitals, helped you with medication. Took care of you when you were sick. I prayed, I cried alone, and then I smiled with you through hard times…. Maybe I was too busy preparing you to do the same for myself.
Knowing you were dead, I still never believed it. I spoke to the doctors, I called your family, my family, friends, work. I told them all you were dead and I hated myself because I did not believe it. I felt so awful. Maybe that’s why I cried. I cried because I was telling them you were dead, yet I would not believe it.
I helped arrange the funeral. People tried to stop me, but I wouldn’t let them. I had to help. I had to help bury you. That’s terrible. So awful of me. I was still waking in the middle of the night, thinking that creak I heard was you sneaking downstairs. I woke up, waiting to see you. The phone would ring and I knew it was you. But it never was. And so, by day, I arranged to have you buried…
I saw your body. But it wasn’t you. It was…an image, an empty shell. Not you. I stood by your grave, as I am now and I read your name over and over, not understanding the mistake. This wasn’t you. You were coming back to me, you promised….
Maybe that’s why I understand now. Your promise has died. You’re not in my dreams; you’re not with me. You’re gone. You broke your promise and it died. And now I understand. You’re never coming back. I think it’s days like this I hate loving you so much.
~~~~
I didn't get any negative feedback for this in class. One guy even thought it was somthing I'd experienced....well, I HAVE experienced parts of it at different levels, I guess....
I personally thought it was a bit 'done' but other people like it so I'm chuffed :D
Dedicated to Maud and Freddie :D
Freddie for his music and inspiration. And Maud for her deep, powerful conversations and Passion.... once we look past the fangirlishness and the rockingness of us.... :D
It has no title, am open to suggestions....
The nights grow long
But dreams live on
Just close your pretty eyes
And you can be with me…
~Queen “Teo Torriatte”
I always think of you…though you’re gone. But you never return like you promised, not even in my sleep. I try to focus on the happy memories, but they are the worst. Reminders of what I have lost… And the unhappy memories? They remind me of times wasted in bad tempers…
How can I continue now you’re gone? You always said I could and that I’d learn to get by. They still tell me that. I’ll never get over you, they say. I’ll learn to get by. How can I learn something I don’t want? I don’t want to face this life without you. I don’t know who’s more selfish. You for leaving me here, or me for wanting to join you…
People on the telly talk of feeling their lost one’s presence. I feel nothing of you. Everything is so empty. The things you touched and created. They’re just OBJECTS! That’s all they ever were! What about me? You touched me, you made me who I am…. and I feel nothing of your presence. You’ve abandoned me. You always said it might happen…. I just believed you when you promised you’d try so hard to wait, to hold on, until we’re both ready… I doubt now I’d ever be ready. How could anyone be ready for what you put me through? Finding you…. so peaceful…so cold. I don’t know how long I sat there, just watching you. I knew you were dead, but still I called the ambulance, the doctor, once the shock had passed. I ran outside screaming for help until one of the neighbours came. He said you were dead. It was too late, but I refused to believe it. I knew it was true, but I refused to believe. You broke your promise. You didn’t wait… you’re not here…. you’ve gone. Completely. And some days I hate you.
I was never prepared for your death. Not as you were. Maybe I should hate myself. I should have been prepared to lose the one thing that could ever make me truly happy. But how do I prepare for that? I came with you to the hospitals, helped you with medication. Took care of you when you were sick. I prayed, I cried alone, and then I smiled with you through hard times…. Maybe I was too busy preparing you to do the same for myself.
Knowing you were dead, I still never believed it. I spoke to the doctors, I called your family, my family, friends, work. I told them all you were dead and I hated myself because I did not believe it. I felt so awful. Maybe that’s why I cried. I cried because I was telling them you were dead, yet I would not believe it.
I helped arrange the funeral. People tried to stop me, but I wouldn’t let them. I had to help. I had to help bury you. That’s terrible. So awful of me. I was still waking in the middle of the night, thinking that creak I heard was you sneaking downstairs. I woke up, waiting to see you. The phone would ring and I knew it was you. But it never was. And so, by day, I arranged to have you buried…
I saw your body. But it wasn’t you. It was…an image, an empty shell. Not you. I stood by your grave, as I am now and I read your name over and over, not understanding the mistake. This wasn’t you. You were coming back to me, you promised….
Maybe that’s why I understand now. Your promise has died. You’re not in my dreams; you’re not with me. You’re gone. You broke your promise and it died. And now I understand. You’re never coming back. I think it’s days like this I hate loving you so much.
~~~~
I didn't get any negative feedback for this in class. One guy even thought it was somthing I'd experienced....well, I HAVE experienced parts of it at different levels, I guess....
I personally thought it was a bit 'done' but other people like it so I'm chuffed :D