I used to believe in fate,
that given enough time
things would turn out right.
I thought that I had lost my innocence
a long time ago.
In high school, drunk and in bed
with a guy I didn’t even know.
Eight year later,
alone in my tiny apartment, in a tiny town,
with nowhere to run, I read the sentence
that there was no turning back from,
“RIP Leigh and Matt Nye.”
I stared in disbelief, hyperventilating.
No, no, no....no, no...
I texted Nick, the messenger,
“When did Leigh graduate Catholic?”
But he and I both knew
that I was seeking an unneeded confirmation.
All of my dreams seem to fall by the side
like a discarded thought or the day's fading light.
The Dropkick Murphys sung to me,
like they had done so many times in the past,
while I cried myself to sleep for days to come.
Heartfelt I’m sorrys
and heads hung in solidarity from coworkers
got me though before I could escape and go home.
At the funeral
as an ex-Catholic turned Atheist
I felt odd, yet comforted in a small church
that was beyond packed full
with friends and family of the deceased.
Going through the motions,
while silently remembering in my own way
put me back together
more than I though I could be at that point.
Driving back up north,
nearly two years ago today,
I was at peace,
I though I had said my good-bye.
But here I am again,
sitting in my corner,
because I was reminded of Leigh.
So now, yet again,
I am listening to hardcore
and trying to come to terms
with why two people, siblings,
were taken so early.
And as I put pen to paper,
yet again, I wonder,
Will this bring closure