RIP Robin, I love you. (Video of Me Rambling) in Just another day in Paradise...

How do I tell you I love you when you’re already gone?

How do I show you all that life has given to me, taken from me, and just how far I’ve come?

How do I tell you that you were the very best friend I had ever known?

How do I show you that you mean the world to me still even though it’s been

Fifteen cold, long years..

And still not one day has lapsed when I have not offered a quiet prayer gazing skyward, knowing that somewhere you are there because only those sparkling stars are truly worthy. Motes of brilliance and beauty.

I know you are one.

I know you are here. In my heart. Holding my soul.

Every time I look above, I know it, I see it, and I feel it..

You are there.

You are home.

© Brian Milici
April 24, 2015

.........

I miss you tonight.

Words seem far from their soothing nature. Instead they are callous and rough. I am worn thin and stretched beyond measure at the thought of another quiet night alone. Solitude has often been a bedfellow, yet the simple comfort of body warmth remains forever lacking.

You see, there are nights in which the cold winds of fortune do not swirl with favor. No, sometimes the darkness outside lingers.

Almost as if it is within me bursting outward, not allowing a ray of sunlight to shine. Sometimes the horror of life is that there is a tomorrow after all and you will awaken.

Sometimes it is the need to go on that burns longest and hottest leaving marks upon its scorched pathway.

Destruction is inherent in us all, is it not?

We see the bright lights looming above canopies of tall treetops, and yet we always seem focused on the winding tunnel. The mercurial cave of mystery seeds us in tight spots and dark patches so abundantly that you might swear it were actually baited to do so.

No, it is simple nature of us fallible human creatures to long for that which remains so decidedly unhealthy. We sip on drinks that pass through us without obstacle, and yet we drown ourselves in the nectar of impaired decisions and take a chance.

Rolling those decidedly loaded and not in our favor dice of life..

So here I sit tapping away my thoughts, and I find myself in my own tunnel of sorts. Happiness has found its way to me.

Not the first time and likely not the last, mind you, and yet I long for the days of my youth where I was tempted by the dim light in the cave. Never knowing the source. Was it treasure? Glowing algae? Or perhaps some fool’s gold that will only lead to a bankrupt individual at best if not soul at worst.

I am on the edge of the landscape of lost souls, and I long to pull you free. Reach down and bring you with me to lights and nights far greater and more rewarding than any we ever shared.

Yet I cannot.

You have passed beyond this place.

I want to give you clean air. A bright and shiny day with plush meadows in which dandelions are plentiful and the opportunity is there for you to blow them to pieces.

Oh, how I have felt that way..

In pieces, yes, you have left me. Though the responsibility of that belongs not on your shoulders, but rather simply with the cycle of life and the difficulties in which we sometimes come to witness and haphazardly endure.

I do not know the code of which I should follow, but I do know that you always listened to me be it day or night. Cloudy skies or fairer stays, there was forever one soul in which I could bare my own to without hesitation.

Trust me in this when I say it, I do not know if I have fully felt that since you were with me in every way.

Oddly enough, I never found myself writing for you as much when you did so much. Now? Every part of me that exists has your imprint in some ways.

The roads look the same as when I would travel them to see you, but they have lost their wonder. They are cracked and bleeding, as if trying to emulate the hands I will have until my own time comes forever attempting to copulate the thoughts and feelings you stirred within me.

And forever failing.

You see, words I find are plentiful when they are not fully of meaning. I can write words. I can write of love and loss and the sorrow they can each create.

What I cannot write of is just exactly what you meant to me.

How does one stare upon the shining star of our own little part of this cosmos and fully bring it to bare? Can I acutely describe the heat upon my neck in the sweltering month of August to which you shudder and reach for a cold glass? Can I put into proper reading just what a jagged edge it was to balance you against my foolish youthful wants and have it mean to anyone what is has to me?

Never.

No, I am but alone on another solitary night tapping away like the Raven. Waiting for someone to come knock on my door and jar me awake. Perhaps there is something beneath the floorboards of my bedroom? Perhaps there is something beyond this hollow ache I carry with me.

You know, more often than not I do not write of you.

You mean too much to me.

You always will.

Not a day passes in which I do not hold you against my left breast and think of your song. See your shy smile. Wonder if I left as much a mark upon you as you did me.

I know some do not believe in a God.

Many do not know if there is a Devil.

Do not expect me to oblige you in either direction, no, I will only say this to you.

Your wisdom forever guides me in everything that I do. You were a beacon of hope and a gentle embrace of affection whenever I most needed anything. You gave me more than you ever asked, and you always placed others before yourself.

You did this not to be noticed, but simply because that was who you are.

Who you were.

Oh, it pains me still.

I know not of Heaven or Hell, but what I do know is that I met an angel in the everyday world and she was beyond extraordinary.

She made me want to be a better man simply by her presence near me.

No more mystic tunnels and alluring caves can hold sway with your fingerprints upon my very soul. You see, I gave up such pursuits in large part in my endeavors to be somehow even a shadow of the person you became.

You are no longer with me, and so I cry tonight, but I know I will see you when I close my eyes. Sleep allows me the opportunity to visit.

And so we shall. Tonight I look forward to another laugh with you.

I know that tomorrow will come, and I will be one day closer to your gentle arms.

You are everywhere.

You are everyday.

I love you still.

© Brian Milici
January 18, 2011

....

And sometimes the inspiration comes from one emotion sparked by the image on a screen, and I wrote this in my mind weeping openly at another instance of goodbye…

“Staring Down Goodbye”

I never want to say hello to tomorrow
Because that’s staring down goodbye
I’m not afraid to embrace
Some truly awful pains
But I’m a frightened child
When I think of you
And how we never said goodbye

How do you handle not seeing
And hearing her breathing
Someone you loved with truth
And a noble purity
Whose small frame belied
How strong she was
Just to survive

How do you handle not seeing
And hearing her whispering
So many times you were the one
The only one that I’d confide
Yet now you are lost to everyone
And I’m just so lost
Without you now
As I was when I would turn to you
And you held me as I cried

How do you handle not seeing
Her fighting for clean breathing
When the world I crafted
And the actuality of hard life
Would tragically collide
You are a shattering of starlight
A raven with the wisest of eyes
My guardian for forever
An angel with the softest sighs
And the strongest lungs
I would give anything
Just to say hello to tomorrow
If it meant I got a chance to say
Just one chance to say
I love you
And goodbye

© Brian Milici
September 6, 2012

I have so many writings about Robin.

So many, too many to count..

None of them will ever be good enough.

I will always remember.
I will always love you.
In this, there exists no goodbye.

May you always find your smile.