Six Feet Under

Where did you bury the boy you used to be? If I knew, I'd dig him up instantly. I wouldn’t care if he lay six feet or sixty, I’d take my shovel to the soil, dive deep, Past the roots, past the earth’s fiery core, Just to meet the boy I knew before. I’d break open the casket and shake him awake, Ask why he'd put me through such heartache. Unlike you, he’d apologize without delay, He’d never leave me hanging, never drift away. That’s when it hit me, clear and true— I didn’t fall in love with the present you. I fell for the kid, my dorky next-door friend, The one who’d ding-dong-ditch until the day would end. Who couldn't stop talking, full of innocent bliss, It’s that boy, not you, that I still miss. But the kid I loved so long ago Has vanished, and now, I must let him go.