Why didn’t they tell you
to straighten your necklace?
Grown up children back then;
they evolved only on the outside.
Porcelain dreams in your vapid gaze;
I wonder why they were broken.
Was it black and white back then?
Was it bleak and weak in your dreams?
Before the heaps of hurdles
were thrown at you;
before all the shattered
windows (for your escape);
when your dreams collided into the
wall and your thoughts were thrusted.
You never allowed yourself anything;
flowers nipped by the frost.
I can smell your disappointment;
your regret lingers as you loiter.
Unmoved. Removed. I disapprove
of your unintentional episodes.
round and red
you lay there torn apart
a crease, bare
left in the parking lot
my hands grip the handles
feel the cold
were you abandoned? Dropped?
were you old?
as i ride away, i
witness the brightest star
bouquets of twilight, far
all leading the way home
I cry. I sob, actually. I feel a loss for someone whom I have never met; someone who encouraged me to remain different from the rest, and to keep on living in a world of art and expression. I’m not too sure if I have ever felt this way about someone famous who’s died, but I do now. I had some of the best times with him, and he didn’t even know it. Or, perhaps he did.
David Bowie, you’ve joined me on many road trips; you had comforted me as I traveled down some dark and lonely roads (and will continue to do so). You had a hold on me with your freakness when I was just 14 years old, and I held you, with reverence.
As the world knows, there was something about you that struck the loudest chord which then reverberated in our hearts, in our minds and in our bodies.