Lead on stranger, show me the light

Tell me when it'll be okay for me to cry again. Or is it too late? Should the moment have passed by now? Should I be over it, and on with my life? I'm afraid it's not that simple, if it were I wouldn't find myself at the end of a sofa trying so hard to expload that I shake. I wouldn't walk into a room and see empty, meaningless, careless, glances. I wouldn't keep remembering thet time at the 41...that breakfast, where she complimented my boots and hugged me tight. I wouldn't keep reaching out for her powdery cheek, or imagining her bright pink lipstick. And I see now that people just can't understand why I still break down...it wasn't a tragedy, far from it, it was as natural as eating or breathing, but it still hurts just the same. It hurts knowing that the last time she slept she didn't wake up, the last time I held her hand, she didn't hold back, and the last time she was warm, she burnt and never recovered. It doesn't help trying to believe that she's up somewhere guiding me through life, it doesn't help thinking that she died to teach me something, and it doesn't help pretending in a greater force with a plan. Nothing helps. I'm lost, and confused, and I hurt in ways that are new and terrifying. I can't get past the notion that this life will end, but the next one won't and who the fuck knows what it will be like. It's the blind leading the blind, one lie after another trying to weave together a blanket of comfort with so many holes in it that it's entirely inaffective. I don't even remember her voice. Did she have a voice? All i know are the memories...and what good are they? Should I fall and hit my head she could be erased from my life entirely...just like that. It's just like that. It's so simple, and it's so complicated.