It was almost like love,
Almost like your hand fits in my hand perfectly can I call you mine?
No.
It was almost like you’re the one I can phone at 3 a.m,
When the thoughts are bad and the darkness is thick
And I am drowning.
It was almost like drowning
Because your eyes
Are blue like waves that won’t stop breaking over my
Head, they leave my lungs unable to fill with anything that is not
Salt water which is what your skin tastes like.
It was almost like midnight making love and memories
Under stars that were too far away and you;
You are too far away. Too far gone. Too far
Too far from me.
It was almost like love
Almost like unearthly bond
Almost like you are one reality and I am another
But we do not mix so it is always only
Almost
And that’s what hurts the most.

His skin is peeling away from the structure of his face the fire burns so hot he will never be recognized as him again I don't know why they bothered to re cremate him when by the end he was already a burnt out husk anyways.
2 a.m on Friday the 13th his tires slid and he wrapped himself around a tree something ignited and it's clear he never had a chance from the beginning
I thought he was careful.
I see his bloodcurdling screams on a movie screen in my head the soundwaves look like never coming home except in a box with a flag handed to his two sons I think the irony is that he made it through the war and not down the highway.
I thought he was careful.
I sat in the 4th row and couldn't stop staring at a beautiful blue box it held this man bigger than life inside of it everybody is crying around me and I just want him to hug me again but i feel so selfish as if his sons don't want that too.
I thought he was careful.
Everynight on the back of my eyelids they replay the crash I never saw but can only imagine in full color surround sound I could almost feel the seismic impact his death left on the world when the tree did not give way and I hope that you were lucky enough to get into heaven but I've got to say that burning up on Friday the 13th doesn't sound very lucky to me.

Hello,
Creature of my thoughts
Have you come to
Play?
I hope all is well with you
Though I wish
You'd stop banging against
The walls of my skull
I can hear you knocking
But you are not a welcome guest.
The only time you enter is when
You enter through the window,
Quiet and deadly.

Sickening thunder in an emptiness
That you cannot quite place.
Shuddering in the parking lot smoking a cigarette almost unable to support yourself,
Your father looks at you with melancholy eyes
Tear stained yet he never cries.
Stricken.
This is not an ocean or waves this is a sinkhole
A sudden tearing of the earth so forceful it knocks it off kilter.
The world feels off
Something is missing from us.
Letters from his family that will no longer have his name on them and people are never gone
Only lost.
Like you and me.
Grief.
A sudden loneliness that never existed before
A different strain of loneliness for every person that ceases to exist in this reality.
"I miss you" sounds horrific because this type of missing requires never coming back.
Please, come back.

I've got you in my soul,
Your hiding place, get away,
Your idontwanttohandlethisrightnow secret club only you know the password to get in.
I am home, I guess
And if not home then I am the quiet in the storm
I am the hidden silence in the city that never quiets I am the water beneath the wave as it breaks but I am not the wave. I am the gentleness of the beast.
I've been your hiding place since you were 13 years old and I wonder if I can even call my soul mine anymore, you spend more time there than me. Tell me what he's like these days. Tell him I miss him. I've tried everything I can think of but the doors won't open for me but you?
Come and go freely as you please. I am less home and more halfway house. More thisisjustastopicouldneversettledowninyou.
Not home, never home. Just a quiet beast, a gentle wave, a getaway vacation house with all the necessities but none of the incentives for you to actually stay. A pit stop soul that's got vacancy for one and your names engraved on the door.

You tell me you only drink white wine because it doesn't leave any stains when it slips from your lips and drips onto your white pants. And you always wear white pants when you drink wine, yet you only drink wine when you're feeling lost. But how could you feel lost when I am here holding your hand trying to lead you through the fog. The light at the top of the lighthouse is so bright and beautiful I do not know how you fail to see it. It is flashing your name in morse code but instead you are sat on the basement floor your head resting against the edge of the couch and the wine keeps slipping but there's nothing to show for it.
You keep drinking.
Later in the night just as I am falling asleep you sloppily laugh, monotone and quiet, look at me and slur
"I love you because when you leave there will be nothing to show for it, you will not stain me red."
And then you pass out on the floor, empty bottle rolling under the couch. It is silent except for your snores and my breath.
I try to tell myself you were drunk but the truth has a way of slipping out when you can't even keep the drink in and I wonder if that's just another way to say the only one in love is me.