Poem

You're my source of inspiration for this one. I miss you so much.

He was an artistic kid, says the paints in a box

on a pile of broken bottles by the trash.

a smart kid too, says the awards on the wall

in an upstairs room; with a musical, all-consuming passion,

say the papers with scribbled lyrics

on the music stand below the window, deteriorating every second;

but not a kid for losing, say the pile of

ashes of half burnt lottery tickets and the lack of games in the house.

A girl lived with him, says the bedroom wall

covered by a vanity and the dresser top

covered with makeup, and they were in love,

says the mural made from scraps of love notes.

Money was no object, says the elegant furniture

and grand piano in the living room.

And their lives were entertaining, says the ticket stubs

in every room of the house.

It was peaceful here, says the fountain in the garden.

Something went wrong, says the shattered picture frame

lying on the floor. Tear stains on the clothes

say he was not happy; the still-lit cigarettes and bottles

all over the floor say she left in an emotional frenzy.

And their love? Its scars are left on the house

like sins on a soul--pictures,

a glass with lipstick stains,

a scrapbook in the fireplace. Something went wrong, they say.

I wonder if that's what your house would look like. I'm sure it would have been elegant and beautiful. I'm sure you would have had lots of instruments and lots of concert tickets lying around. You would have been famous just like you said you would. I miss you more and more each day. I love you now and forever.