Angst The First
Previous - this entry written on 2001-08-15 at 3:43 p.m. - Next


He's gone.

His smile, his laughter, his warm hands, his calm grey eyes, the way his mouth tastes, the way his ears curve, the spot on his throat where I've given him enough hickies to last a lifetime and still want to give him more, the scent of him, all young and excited...

...gone.

He sang to me a lot. Songs he wrote, songs other people wrote, songs he filked as he went (filking - taking a perfectly good song and putting better words to it. Weird Al is a filker. So are most SCA folks.), hundreds of different songs and bits of them. He sang often, the stereo in our car is busted and so he sang to replace it, I got lonely at night and he sang from inside the cage to keep me company, I was sad and he sang to cheer me up, happy and he sang to keep me laughing...

A wonderful friend of mine just said something:

"...I am firmly of the opinion that anyone who truly affects how you live your day to day life can never be forgotten..."

I'm not sure how much of my day to day life the boy changed. Maybe very little... maybe a lot of it. I know he affected me. I know he will be remembered and worried about and cared for and loved and missed beyond words.

I hope he comes back.

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