The night gets a little broken and
a little of the stuffing comes out
the first thing you feel is old. The second thing you feel is robbed
some people are more than people -
an era -
a cocktail of longago moments
a snapshot of you in pastel-coloured legwarmers
earlyyouth and innocence
her death is not
one nervous system stopping
its more like giving up
your childhood walking into your present and
saying "i give up"!
(But wait! Before you go - tell me
where do broken hearts go?)
Whitney was the one
who taught you about love!
from whom you memorized every vibrato
every voicecrack of heartbreak
before you'd so much as held a boys hand
taught you what it meant to lose
what it meant to long
in a way that seemed beautiful - in a way that felt
safe, as if being a woman would be no different than being a girl
but more fun!
mountains of curls
a face impenetrably happy,
a face too pretty and not beautiful enough to be tragic
the face of a girl who's voice knows everything
Every line from the top of
how do I know! to the bottom of I wanna dance
made you want
to feel that quality of pain - because love
would be worth it!
that was the promise in that voice
that voice that always seemed to have a whole lifetime buried in it!
not the type of voice that dies at 48 -
before you know what happens to broken hearts!
Its a voice that's been holding your hand
since before you knew what music was
it mattered not if she was a genius
not judged and critiqued like MJ
just complete and whole and far away
like childhood
you shut your mind to what she had become
as far away from herself
as innocence to cynicism -
the stuffing gets knocked out of the night a little bit
you are thinking of how sad it is
you are thinking of her daughter
but you are also thinking of yourself
thinking
in her songs
a little of the stuffing comes out
the first thing you feel is old. The second thing you feel is robbed
some people are more than people -
an era -
a cocktail of longago moments
a snapshot of you in pastel-coloured legwarmers
earlyyouth and innocence
her death is not
one nervous system stopping
its more like giving up
your childhood walking into your present and
saying "i give up"!
(But wait! Before you go - tell me
where do broken hearts go?)
Whitney was the one
who taught you about love!
from whom you memorized every vibrato
every voicecrack of heartbreak
before you'd so much as held a boys hand
taught you what it meant to lose
what it meant to long
in a way that seemed beautiful - in a way that felt
safe, as if being a woman would be no different than being a girl
but more fun!
mountains of curls
a face impenetrably happy,
a face too pretty and not beautiful enough to be tragic
the face of a girl who's voice knows everything
Every line from the top of
how do I know! to the bottom of I wanna dance
made you want
to feel that quality of pain - because love
would be worth it!
that was the promise in that voice
that voice that always seemed to have a whole lifetime buried in it!
not the type of voice that dies at 48 -
before you know what happens to broken hearts!
Its a voice that's been holding your hand
since before you knew what music was
it mattered not if she was a genius
not judged and critiqued like MJ
just complete and whole and far away
like childhood
you shut your mind to what she had become
as far away from herself
as innocence to cynicism -
the stuffing gets knocked out of the night a little bit
you are thinking of how sad it is
you are thinking of her daughter
but you are also thinking of yourself
thinking
in her songs
both of you
are the same forever
are the same forever
