Good Friday

Something happened the day he died.

I became like a different person.

I tried to live like I did before.

But I came out a different version.


I don't know quite which words are right to describe.

It wasn't just you that day who died.

And wasn't just a piece of me tied,

Nor part of me that cried,

Nor rosy glasses turned mirror grey,

Nor regret framing the day.


Not just something that changed me

In some finite way...

When he died, I too.

That as he rise

My eyes see endless blue.

I live a whole new life

Missing me, and missing you.


lydiAngeline 2018