Colors in church

Your little brother never tells you but he loves you so

You said your mother only smiled on her tv show

You're only happy when your sorry head is filled with dope

I hope you make it to the day you're twenty-eight years old

I’m sitting here at the church you went to every Sunday. I have never believed in God but you did. You clung to that belief like it was the only piece of solid land in an unending ocean. I admire you for that. No matter what, you stuck with what you started. 

If only you could have had that commitment to life. Your mother hasn’t stopped crying since she stepped foot in the church. I wish I could say some profound declaration that will make everything better. But I can’t and I won’t. I respect your mother and you too much to lie as if I know the future. Plus you were always the one with the charming words. Me? Well I’m good at being sarcastic and having a biting comment to everything under the sun. I suppose that’s why we got along so well. You didn't care if I insulted you or said something bluntly. You saw the meaning behind everything I did. And for that I will owe you my love even after I’m dead. 

Your little brother, Noka, doesn't understand why you haven't come home yet. He keeps asking me if you’re staying over at my house for school again. I don't know how to answer him but that’s ok, he’s known me long enough not to expect an answer from me. I’m sitting in the pew as far away from the front as I can. I don't think I’ll be able to keep myself together if I have to see you lying in that casket.

You're dripping like a saturated sunrise

You're spilling like an overflowing sink

You're ripped at every edge but you're a masterpiece

And now I'm tearing through the pages and the ink   

 I keep looking out the window next to me and I’m seeing these people who are smiling and talking like the world hasn’t just ended. Like the sun hasn't blinked out of existence. But I suppose for them it hasn't. They didn't find their best friend dead. Or the note he wrote. I hate how the universe just seems to go on even when mine has collapsed until all that's left is this church you loved. I always thought of you as the sun and all the bright cheery colors in the world. Yellow, when you smiled. Orange for your perpetual tan. Mediterranean blue, for your eyes. Though now that I look back, I should have seen the way the colors and the warmth that surrounded you started to get darker and colder. Your colors started to spill like a painting that got wet. 

Everything is grey

His hair, his smoke, his dreams

And now he's so devoid of color

He don't know what it means

And he's blue

And he's blue

Everything is grey now. When you died you took every last shade of color with you. I hate it. I want to be selfish and keep you here, to bask in your warmth and vibrancy. I don't want to go back to the rice cake life I had before I met you. I keep thinking to myself as I walk up this aisle that you'll pop up and start laughing. You were always joking. Is it wrong that I wish I could just walk away from here and forget about you? But now that I think about it I would never be able to forget you. I want to hate you for weaving your way into my life so irrevocably that you took most of me with you. I really really want to hate you. But I don't. I could never. 

You were a vision in the morning when the light came through

I know I've only felt religion when I've lied with you

You said you'll never be forgiven till your boys are too

And I'm still waking every morning but it's not with you

People always thought we were strange. You, smile perpetually showing off white teeth and dimples. Me, always having a sarcastic comment on the tip of my tongue and frown practically etched in my very personality. We were strange. I couldn't let my walls down for anyone but you. You couldn't stop joking for anyone but me. I never told you how much that meant to me. That you would let me see the dorky, soft, and gentle side of you. 

Do you remember when we were sixteen? We were laying on the roof outside your window, you were showing me all the constellations you had memorised. It’s getting dark outside now. I keep looking at the stars and moon hoping to find a piece of you there. Maybe an explanation or apology. You owe me that at least. I don't understand how you could think killing yourself wouldn't affect the people around you. 

Though I suppose this is just my way of ignoring the fact that I should have seen the signs, helped you. I look down at my feet feeling like there's cement around them. I want to go back to my apartment - I won’t call a place without you home - and curl up with pictures of you and the stuffed Saturn plushie you got me last month. But I won’t be a coward anymore. I have to be brave for myself since you're not here anymore to be brave for me. 

You're dripping like a saturated sunrise

You're spilling like an overflowing sink

You're ripped at every edge but you're a masterpiece

And now I'm tearing through the pages and the ink

I've finally reached the front and reach my hands toward the lid. My hands are shaking, when did that start? I look over the edge and see your face. It hurts to see you like this. But if you’re happy now then I’ll put a smile on my face for you. It’s unsettling seeing you so pale, without that constant tan I hated because I would never be able to get it. I reach into my pocket and pull out my keychain with a bright red A for Alex and little planets and the sun. I reach over and tuck it into your hand. I’m trying not to flinch, It’s wrong to feel your skin so cold. I squeeze your hand one more time as I slip my hand away. I’ve never felt religion except for when I’m with you. So I’ll come back to this church you loved every Sunday if nothing else than just to feel close to you.

Everything is blue

His pills, his hands, his jeans

And now I'm covered in the colors Pull apart at the seams

And it's blue

And it's blue

Two years later

I'm sitting in a little cafe watching the snow fall outside, as I wait for my boyfriend to come back to the table. It still hurts when I think about you but it's getting better. I don't spend the entire night staring at the ceiling hating myself for not helping you. The chair across from me screeches as it's pulled out. I look up at him with a small smile as he hands me my cup of tea. He knows the look on my face well by now so he just smiles, and reaches over to squeeze my hand. I look back out the window and my heart stops. I can feel the blood in my face draining, eyes widening, and my hand are gripping the cup so hard my knuckles are bleached. This isn't real. You're dead. Not alive. Not standing across from me. I watched them put your casket in the ground. You're not real and your not standing on the other side of the street with that stupid smile on your face. I realize I'm not breathing when I feel my lungs burn. I look away from you and take deep breaths, just like my therapist taught me. You're not here. You're dead. My brain is playing tricks on me. The chemistry of my brain is out of wack. It's causing me to hallucinate. My eyes are closed, when did that happen? I open them slowly and peel my fingers off my cup before I shatter it. I look up at my boyfriend, no that's not giving him enough credit. My rock, my grip on reality, my sanity. I hate seeing that look of concern on his face knowing it's because of me. I set the cup down and glance back out the window release a breath I didn't even realize I was holding. You're not there. Nothing but snow falling and people walking by. I dip my head with a look of relief. I look back at Noe and smile and squeeze his hand. "I'm ok" I tell him, "Don't worry." I look back out the window and smile.

I don't own the song.