This Side of Your Silence

At sunrise it hit me:
I looked around in shock.
I was halfway down your block.
I hadn’t noticed at all.
Not a soul in the street
except an old man with a broom.
I saw the drawn curtains of your room
and I realized you’re never going to call.

I can put the past out of my mind.
People do that all the time.
But I can’t help feeling like I die a little
with every memory that I leave behind.

Oh, on this side of your silence
it feels like violence
to think I’ll never hear your voice again …

I remember summer nights
walking over here through the park
your green eyes flashing in the dark
like some signal that sent to me.
The old drunk men waved.
The night breeze caressed us
as if everything and everyone blessed us –
as if it was all meant to be.

I can put the past out of my mind.
People do that all the time.
But I can’t help feeling like I die a little
with every memory that I leave behind.

Oh, on this side of your silence
it feels like violence
to think I’ll never hear your voice again.
So I may not have a choice in
drinking your cup of poison
but don’t expect me to rejoice in
such a pointless end.
It feels like dying, my once-upon-a-time friend.

Why did you want to leave me here
on this side of your windows?
Don’t you know there’s no place more haunted
than a street where you’re not wanted?
You can hear cruel ghosts come screaming when the wind blows.

So I won’t keep your pictures –
only dust upon my shelf
but my mind can’t heal itself
it can only play the scene back from the start.
Yes, I’m still standing on your block.
I’m left here with the fallout.
I guess you want to leave me here to crawl out
backwards from the center of your heart.

One day I’ll put it out of my mind.
I know people do that all the time.
But I can’t help feeling like I die a little
with every memory that I leave behind.

On this side of your silence
it feels like violence
to think I’ll never hear your voice again.
So I know I have no choice in
drinking your cup of poison
but don’t expect me to rejoice in
such a pointless end.
It feels like dying, my once-upon-a-time friend.
It feels like dying, my once-upon-a-time friend.
It feels like dying, my once-upon-a-time friend.

Tam Lin