like Jackie, like me.

I wonder. Why those who hardly know me are capable of such concern, but not from you.
I wonder. Why those words of endearment from her and those hands on all the wrong places.
I wonder. How many times have you thought about us.
I wonder. If you ever told me the truth.
And I wonder. Will you ever tell me and spare me the dread of finding it out for myself?


Because it just refused to come out of the dark. No, it's not afraid of the light, but maybe the light's afraid of it. Or so I think.

Whoever's up there now. Are you home?


And because today's the first morning after much recovery that I'm feeling it again. All the wrong time and wrong places. Told you and you pretty much brushed it away. So what else am I waiting for? Why am I still right here where you left me when I've lost sight of you long ago. Can't complain, can I? Are they obliged to tell us?


It's coming back and I can feeling it living inside my eye. Where are the tears when you need them the most.


Oh, Jackie.