There are certain people that come along
that make you want to cry
when you think of losing them..
That make you want to cry
when they hurt you, or, perhaps worse,
when you hurt them, and they try to hide it.
Let me take out my science kit and assess the situation;
mark down the grave I’ll lay you in
take out a spatula and dig the hole; pencil in a beauty mark
and say the world is gray and stark.
And I know you think I’ve missed the mark,
but heavens I know
that when this is over and we tally up the scores
I want to be close to you;
so close that if I lose it, I can grip and rip your T-shirt;
hold on so tight I draw blood;
fall to the mud and clench my teeth and groan
when the end comes.
And God knows—I’ve told him a thousand times—that
I don’t want the end to come;
but I don’t know what to do with the interim.
I don’t have time to waste, and here I sit, wasting it,
because the end scares me so much I’m paralyzed
with the time I’ve been given;
sitting, wasting, procrastinating.
So when I lose you, whenever I do, now or eighty years and one
sunless afternoon or moonless night,
when I lose you I want you close enough to tear to shreds.
Beat upon and gnash and hold so very, very close,
because you’re one of the people that makes me want to cry
when you hurt me, and I try to hide it.
– Written by E.R. Womelsduff