Amy

This poem is dedicated to Amy Winehouse

I wish somebody could have told her

to love someone

is to in turn, love yourself.

I wish that she could have looked in the mirror

and realized that she would

always be worth saving in her parents eyes,

her fans' eyes, and most importantly,

worth saving in her own eyes.

That honey tan skin turned beige and cold;

who would have known

her act would grow so old?

Chasing boys, chasing men, chasing

the love she could never muster for herself.

Voice like raspy angels,

singing the blues of back to black

and numerous affairs and broken hearts.

I wish she would have known,

could have guessed,

that it was possible-

even likely,

that she could be loved:

That people would cry if she died,

that her parents would open up foundations in her name,

that fans would listen to her music-especially me,

and wonder, why? She could have found love.

She could have found true love,

love nothing like that pipe,

or the neck of a beer bottle...

She could have gotten married,

had children,

had her name in the hall of fame..

But that wasn't the case,

and some people will never learn

to love someone

is to in turn love yourself,

to know someone is to

know yourself,

and someone will always miss you

when your gone.

 

Author's Note

what do you think?

Reviews

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I really loved this write sincerely, Loved the opening alot as well. Reads so smoothly and makes one think. Emotional read, love it