As of late yoga playlists seem to have taken on a purple persuasion. It’s strange. Weeks before your passing I was listening to you on a daily. And now you’re gone.
I hate the celebrity tributes and calculated wording by publicists representing those who never represented you. I hate the coolness of others as they try to hip folk to that which is optimistic when really it’s just another post about themselves.
I weeped in class the other day because I’m still not ready to share my loss with strangers. Not in that moment. Not in that setting. Yoga didn’t help that day. Nor did I bend hope or expectation in an upward direction silently wishing for your return. I looked up anyway. You were not there.
So I carry you with me. Forever in my heart. No matter how heavy the vibe gets. I love you Prince…
I live in a city where everyone wants to be someone other than themselves. Sad really. I lived here once. Much younger then. Unfinished business is why I returned again. Or so I thought.
My dream. Now shifted. Replaced with a purpose. One I run headlong into every day. I wonder if anyone thinks of Amy?
As I pace my tiny apartment, jacket still on. Beanie in place. Incense burning. Dry meat rots the space. Ears plugged. Don’t wanna hear the neighbors race. It’s enough that I have to smell your plate. I wonder if anyone thinks of Amy? I spent a few hours with her present today. Finding no watch in her past tonight. I wonder if anyone thinks of Amy?
Big theater. Too many seats. Maybe nine filled. Two hours and twenty minutes of winks, cusses, music and pain. Love and drugs. A constant rain. Perhaps a 27 year doc would have been a bit too long. We’ll never know. I wonder if anyone thinks of Amy?