What Might Have Been Lost

I walk into the bar.
I do not look at anyone.
instead, i make my way to the bathroom- as i pretend normal people would do. I like to try and play the part. That i am not a drunk, alone, on this thursday night, wishing that death did not exist- although i surely never would’ve called you, if you were still alive.

My life is a wave that won’t be stopped.
It isn’t really as beautiful as it may sound, like most things.
Not a beautiful wave- don’t confuse it.

There is nothing beautiful there.

Well- nothing, except, for in my memory. In the place where the ideas still hold true in the place where you did not hang yourself, where you did not die of a disease no one even knew of- a place where the reality of death is more potent than life.
The place where the car stayed steadfast on the road and you were not thrown out.
The place where the pills you took really were just enough.
The place where only the villains really disappear.

You know what i mean.

Still, you are there. As i watch the autumn leaves falling- it’s as though you are there.
Who are you? Were. That’s what they would say.
I’m not sure- never really was- but still, there is something.