Why did you leave me here all alone?

You didn't know you left me but you did. I'm sure you were aware of the others, bound to you by DNA, and I'm sure you rationalized your way away from them.

But you forgot me, forgot the others like me. Other students who learned from you the necessity into reading into an artist's prose. If it had been anyone but you, I might not have. But you can't teach the things you did, and live the way you lived and then in the culmination of everything you ever were, expect your students to take it at face value.

So I don't. And I don't care about your reputation because I believe you can be human, as you were, in the most repugnant of ways, and still be an angel - still be light personified, laughter personified and poetry personified.

You don't know what you did for me while you were here. And you don't know what you did to me when you left.

You shook my very foundation. Turned everything I thought I knew into a question mark. You disemboweled me.

And you, this woman who, had I been asked to, I could only have described as gallant, left me alone - trying to pick up with desperate clawing hands the shattered remains of what you once believed enough to impart.

You left us. You left me. No sun will ever rise over you and I again. No sun will ever set over us either. This earth I tread will never feel your feet upon it again, because those feet are turning rapidly into bones in a box a few arm-lengths below the ground where I can never get to you. Where I can never grab you by the shoulders, look you in the eye, shake you and demand why? Why, why, why, why...

Why did you leave me here all alone?