I'd call

Thought I’d call, I should have talked it seems,
31st of march, I slept, my tea turned cold, and some lonely dreams.
Dreary days, the first week of April should have heard that faint voice,
Bleak nights, the second week of April, stepped out, lonesome lockdown, didn’t have a choice.

Nourishing womb, house encircled with flames, I chose you,
Empty roads, forlorn chirps, and sacred air couldn’t accept what was true.
Grumpy gate-men, elongated entrance, I entered your house of tear,
Still a believer? Kept on looking at you, oxygen cylinders, all I felt was fear.

Stumbling voice, deaf fate, dreadful summer, you looked like you’ll not stay,
Crumbled conscious, shaking senses, your soul needed rest, your eyes said what you couldn’t say.
Slipping away, bruised breathe, you went from breaking down to losing hope,
Haunting thoughts, I touched you, fearless smile, silly smirk but you were no dope.

The first week of May, losing pulse, all you ate was pills and some paper saying you might die,
My grim expressions, some funny talks, and your silence felt daunting, your dry lips were enough for me to cry.
Wiping tears and terrified walls, everyone was getting ready to bid you farewell, your heartbeat started out fading,
The second week of May, you said you couldn’t see, paralysis got a company of blind, wound around the back also started invading.

Rose petals, nasty scars, all I saw was your skin turning white,
Piercing thorns, you had a war, doctors said this time you chose not to live, your no wasn’t right.
Welcome to the death bed, 4th   week of May, you scummed to your pain, 8:30 I received a call,
Empty roads, forlorn chirps, distorted noise, I knew I lost what was closest, I know you couldn’t break that wall.

Out of the woods, for the very first time, your body felt no pain after your soul said goodbye,
Looked alive, delusional truth, I sat near your legs touched you what if you wake up and greet me with a hi.
29th may, you being covered in a white, wooden bed taking you directly to the road of heaven,
6 years, pretty picture promise me to keep your promise if you return again be my friend even though I might be a Bevan.

Thought I’d call, I should have talked it seems,
31st of march, I slept, my tea turned cold, and some lonely dreams…….