Hurt

I would hold you in my arms
I would take the pain away
Thank you for all you've done
Forgive all your mistakes
There's nothing I wouldn't do
To hear your voice again
Sometimes I want to call you but I know you won't be there


You're holding me close, and I am clutching you so tightly my arms are trembling, but I won't stop. You're shaking a little, and I want to take all of your pain away, and to soothe your thoughts, so I am mumbling in your ear, trivial things, just memories, but I can tell that you are listening to every word.

I have to take the chance, and there is an urgency I don't understand, because you might be gone any second - Why? - and I have to tell you this.

"Thank you, my John, for everything. For putting up with me and for giving me your love and for taking mine in return. You are my everything, and I know that it was hard. God, it was so hard. Especially for us. We could only tell George and Ringo, and all of the girls who were fawning over us, thinking they had a chance because we were straight... Well, if they weren't wrong, then what the bloody hell happened between us? Look, I know I made mistakes - Christ, I must be the stupidest person ever to have done so many wrong things. But you did too. And I don't want you to think I hate you for it. 'Cause I don't. I never did, even when we were screaming at each other 'till our voices were hoarse. We always came back together, didn't we? Even if we were at it again the next day. You know, sometimes I thought that it would never work out, you and me. But then I started thinking about all the things we've done, and all the things we shared, and I always buried my doubts. We were meant for each other, John, no matter what Linda and Yoko thought. Yes, it was a mistake to marry her, but I forgive you. It was years ago. I had to get over it, but I never forgot about you. Never ever."

I bury my face in your smooth hair, and I bring a hand up to run my thumb over the patch of your cheek that isn't pressed into my shoulder. I hold your head with both hands now, and gently move it so your eyes are now staring deep into mine. I study every line of your face - your beardless face because I always hated that thing -, your sharp nose, your smooth skin, your thin and pale lips, your curving eyebrows then finally your dark eyes that convey so much. Like when we slept together for the first time; then they showed pleasure and pain and lust and hope and a kind of hazy adoration. When you first told me you loved me, shouted it at me in the middle of an argument, I saw exasperation and that thing I hadn't known what to call until then. Love.

I lean my forehead against yours, so our noses nearly touch, and ask

"Say my name."

Silence.

"John, please say my name."

Nothing.

"Please, John, just once more, please say it."

You seem to be fading a little. I am panicking a bit now, and my hands clutch the sides of your head desperately. Now you have to say it.

"Please."

My voice cracks a little, a sign of my growing agitation, and I see something shift in your expression. Your mouth opens and my brow relaxes for a moment, but then you disappear completely.

"John!"

I wake up, and I am sitting up in my bed, your name on my lips.

"John..."

I'm sorry for blaming you for everything I just couldn't do
And I've hurt myself by hurting you