Once

I took it all once. I did not care, because there was always more. It seemed so easy and predestined. Everything would turn out okay, there was good in everyone.
But when you watch them break so slowly it can be seen. As if once cracked nothing can be put back together. Once they are dead they can’t be brought back. I know this so deeply. It was the knowing that hurt. But if I hadn’t known then the shock would have been too much to bare.
How can I be happy when I have this in my heart?
I sat inactive in his house, same as always. And I just watched him die.
I was given no responsibility, and I didn’t take any.
But knowing I can’t do anything doesn’t mean it hurts any less.
There are songs in me, and I will keep writing. I will not get his approval, or his laughter.
Losing someone that cared for you is hard. And I know he loved me.
Am I just trying to cry? Or do I mean it?
Tears sometimes feel like they will fix things. But I cannot rely on them, it is not true to myself.
I want to cry. It might make everything better. It won’t bring her back though, and he won’t be alive.
The music plays and reminds me of times, of emotions, and I wish I understood it all.