there’s this song i haven’t written
i don’t know what it sounds like
or what it says
but i know exactly how it feels
there’s this memory i have
of this place that was once my home
every morning i’d wake up
but not once did i feel the cold
the houses were built like that
my best friend’s father made them
i met her when we were kids
he didn’t get any of that money
her little brother’s dead now
he was one of us, he still is
i saw her mother, who still feels like my mother, a while ago
she cried as i held her in my arms, i hadn’t seen her in years before that
she reminded me of my own mother
crying at her mother’s funeral
as i held her.
i didn’t cry either time
she told me that she’s not dead because of her grandchildren
i knew there was nothing i could’ve said, so i listened
and i held her, and i hugged her
and then for some silly reason, we laughed
i was there when she left. My best friend, now a mother, too
looked tired, silently thanking me for being a kid for her mother
when she couldn’t be one.
It was her university graduation day.
i’d open the windows
i’ll hear the wind
i’ll feel the sun on my skin
the air felt light and pure, like our souls back then
even writing this down feels sacred
as all things changed, so did that house, but it still exists
if i close my eyes, though, which i often do,
i can transport myself to that time
maybe that’s actual time-travelling
maybe i just need a reason
to get through today
and maybe, that memory
will always be my best one
before we knew pain
before we met death
before we grew up
before we left
it’s been over a year since his death,
since that car accident.
he was the youngest of all of us, i guess he’ll always be.
he died pursuing his dreams
                -late night writer
