Wake to Wake

Wake to Wake
Photo by Maria Tomassi. Smile by God Himself.

Photo by Maria Tomassi. Smile by God Himself.

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.


At midnight

during the pitch-black dawn

of a new year

we kissed under a

champagne thunderstorm

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.



At 11:59PM,

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.