It’s been four years since we lost you. Four year of becoming obsessed with death, the unknown, and trying to figure out all of the answers. Of trying to figure out where you went. The truth lies in where you went while you were here, and after you died I retraced all of our steps. You were magic personified. You are magic in spirit. From new years kisses to kissing the ground goodbye on your first flight. I miss you. We all do. All I can do is write about it.
during the pitch-black dawn
of a new year
we kissed under a
to the rumbles of cheers
and feet of beachside dancers
creating waves of memories
that are more fun to ride
than the previous year’s devastation.
At 5AM in the dead of winter
your voice awakens my curiosity
and warms my soul.
I think some of the drunk in your system
shook alive the closed chest of spontaneity in my heart.
12 hours and 3 planes later I know what
your idea of adventure entails.
I let Colorado take me.
Five months later,
I find sand and seashells in the crux of your smile.
We become sailors of the eastern seaboard,
surfing above the crowd on the benches of bar booths.
while drowning under blankets
in the humidity of southern comfort
and in the darkest depths of doubt
my heart capsizes.
Various phone calls replay in my mind
like a symphony of broken records.
Somewhere during your voyage
you’ve abandoned ship.
All I can do is wade in the wake
of your spirit,
and try to hold onto what
remains of you.
I just wish I had one more chance
to say goodnight, darling.