A man sang it to me once, 6 and a half years ago, sitting in my little green Volvo on a cold winter's night.
There's a shadow just behind me
Shrouding every step I take
Making every promise empty
Pointing every finger at me
Joseph.
I bonded him out of jail, at a cost I don't like to contemplate now.
I brought him into my home, into the apartment I'd secured.
I sat beside him in court, and I held his hand. I promised him that I would keep him safe.
Jesus, won't you fucking whistle
Something but what's past and done?
Jesus, won't you fucking whistle
Something but what's past and done?
On his 34th birthday, I made him a birthday cake- butter recipe yellow with homemade chocolate frosting. The same cake I'd made for my own recent 18th birthday.
The day I bonded him out of jail, he walked into the restaurant where we worked, straight back into the kitchen. He wrapped his arms around me and lifted me off the ground, exclaiming, "Baby! You have no idea how much I love you right now!"
I had just signed on his $15,000 bond, and he'd promised me that he wouldn't leave.
I am just a worthless liar
I am just an imbecile
I will only complicate you
Trust in me and fall as well
I remember the night that the man OD'd in our complex. Fox, my brother, had seen him first, but Joseph was the first one to run down. He cared for the man until the ambulance that we called arrived. Afterwards, we went to Waffle House.
He told me that he was a cocaine addict. He never lied to me about that- he told me that he never forgot about it, never stopped craving it.
I will find a center in you
I will chew it up and leave
I will work to elevate you
Just enough to bring you down
I remember the last night that I saw him, although I hadn't known then that it would be. He took me out on the motorcycle which he and my brother shared- my brother also lived with us, and I was supporting them both- to the Botanical Gardens, and we talked there for hours.
He told me that I needed to stop trying to be so much of an adult, that I needed to lighten up and be young. I remember laughing bitterly, thinking that I was the only one contributing to my little household, and if I wasn't an adult then who would be? He told me a lot of things, but I don't remember most of them.
But I remember him telling me that I was beautiful, and that I was too young to try to be so old.
Trust me
Trust me
Trust me
Trust me
Trust me
Last night, I listened to, "Sober," and I cried. I saw his laughing black eyes, remembered the taste of the ceviche he made for me. I remembered the heat of his skin as he slept beside me, and picture of his daughter he'd kept on the mirror in our apartment's bathroom. I remembered the scent of his leather jacket when I wore it to school because I didn't have another one, and the look on his face when I presented him with his birthday cake. I felt his hand smacking my butt as he and my brother taught me to wait tables, and remembered the bitterness in his eyes when our manager fired him for being arrested and missing 3 weeks of work.
I remember the night that I realized that he was gone. The night that I realized that he wasn't coming back, that he had left and left me with a $15,000 bail bond hanging over my head. I remember how long that I cried, the detectives showing up at my door early in the morning int he hopes that they would find him sleepy and tousled in my bed. I remember how angry that I was, how betrayed. I remember my brother asking me if I'd really expected him to stay, and his look of shock when I replied simply, "He promised."
Why can't we not be sober?
I just want to start this over
Why can't we sleep forever?
I just want to start this over
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