Forever
By Raymond Livingston
There you are,
Mike,
What,
No hello?
Come on.
You knew I'd find you.
New town, new coat, new name on the lease,
Still leave the hallway light on when you sleep.
Three locks, deadbolt, chair beneath the handle—
You really thought a door could end this, Michael?
Relax. Sit down. I'm not here for a scene.
You look like you've been losing sleep over me.
Don't apologize; I know why you ran.
It's the oldest little prayer of a desperate man.
"One more morning. One clean slate.
Maybe he forgot. Maybe I escaped."
You should know better. You know what you signed.
You got what you wanted.
Now I get your time.
Keep your excuses; I've heard them before.
I don't need a key when you opened the door.
You can leave the city, leave your name behind—
But you don't leave me.
Not this time.
Run, run, Mike—you can run all night,
But you can't put a mile between you and I.
You get a last breath. I get never.
You get goodbye. I get forever.
Oh, forever, forever—
You pray for more; I pray for never.
Run, run, Mike, till the morning light.
You get an ending.
I get another night.
You want to talk monsters? Let's talk about yours:
They smile for the camera, then lock all the doors.
Say, "Put your trust in me. I'm on your side,"
While they measure your back for a place for the knife.
I've watched men pray with a hand on a book,
Then take what they wanted when nobody looked.
Watched a crowd gather when somebody bled—
Half called for help; half leaned in instead.
And you call us wicked. You call us cruel.
Like we haven't learned a thing or two from you.
Don't look away, Mike. You know that face.
You wore it yourself when you first took his place.
Said you deserved it. Said he'd be fine.
Funny what a conscience learns to justify.
I've seen your cities buried under sand,
Then watched new streets rise where the old ones ran.
Different flags hanging over the gates,
Same hungry men deciding who gets a plate.
They've knelt at my feet, they've wept on my sleeve,
Said, "Please, there are people depending on me."
I asked where those people had been in their mind
When they traded tomorrow for one good night.
But here's what you don't know about the damned:
We remember the shape of the original plan.
Made for a purpose. Given a place.
Then left with forever and no way to change.
You think all this anger is hunger for power?
Mike, I'd give mine up for an ordinary hour.
Give me one day with a pulse in my wrist.
Let me get old. Let there be something I miss.
Let me hold someone knowing that one day they'll go.
Let me mean "see you tomorrow" without knowing so.
Not a kingdom. Not worship. Not a world made to kneel.
Just a life I could lose.
Something fragile and real.
You call death a curse—
Of course you do.
You've never had forever
Looking back at you.
