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appreciate him and
reassure him.
enjoy every little
aspect of his life.
his drive for racing.
his passion for his job.
his love for his momma.
he doesn't like to talk much,
you have to get him started.
memorize every Kesha song
so you can scream them with him
while driving gravel roads at 70mph.
let him go to the bar with his friends at night,
he'll always talk to you when he gets home.
he'll never admit it but he's in love with the sky.
lay in the bed of his truck and watch the sunset with him.
watching Spartacus is his favorite,
suggest watching it while cuddling on his couch.
treat all his friends like you've known them forever.
you'll fit right in if you've got a beer in your hand.
be bold around him.
he needs someone to counteract what he brings.
but,
when he tells you he's going to
be busy for the next few weeks,
don't believe him.
when he stops taking you out
and starts asking you to come over,
don't let him.
if he only has real conversations with you
when he's drunk,
push him aside.
actually, nevermind.
maybe you'll have
whatever the hell i lacked.
it's his blue eyes.
the rarity of them
matched with his
brown hair.
the ones i know
i'll never get to
see behind.
it's his smile.
the same one he
offers to me
but also to
the rest of the world.
it's his laugh.
the one that
gives me hope
but also the one
that drags it away.
yet it's also
so much more.
it's his passions
for his job
and for racing,
but not for me.
it's his love for his family
that i'm convinced i'll
never get to meet.
it's the way he
hugs me from behind
as if to not
look me in the face.
it's hard not to love
a boy who takes
more than he gives
because
in all reality
he's still giving to me.
you don't know pain
until it's staring you
straight in the eyes.
this time
it's your mother.
she's tired and even
wilting.
and you're the reason why.
when i was young,
i thought my tears
would nourish roses.
now that i'm older
i know they will
drown sorrows.
my big brother,
he's my everything.
but when i was admitted
into the hospital
i was so mad at him.
so ******* mad.
my mom
came to visit me
every day,
but he only came once.
it was a five minute visit
on his way to go see
his now ex girlfriend.
that was six months ago.
he has a fiancé now.
i sat down with her yesterday
and had a long talk.
i told her the story
and how mad i had been.
she looked at me with
those sad eyes
i see so often.
"he told me about that,"
she said,
"he told me that you
were mad.
but he also told me
he couldn't bear
to see you
when he's your
big brother
and he failed
to protect you."
now that i'm sober
my mom says that
i've quit a lot
and i don't have to
give up smoking
just yet.
but she buys
nicotine patches
and leaves them
in my room.
i'm trying mom.
i swear it to you.
you think
you're over it.
you think
it's all behind you.
until it's not.
until something
triggers it.
it's been 498 days,
but today everything was
ripped out again.
every stitch i made...
was ripped out...
again.

i was watching a movie
with my mom.
a boy got into the backseat
and tried getting
with the girl.
she refused.
my mom looked at me
and with sad eyes said
"it happens more than
you think.
but sometimes
the boy gets further."
no ****.
no ****.
no ****.

i went outside
and smoked a cig.
my heart was racing.
a frog jumped around
in my throat.
i cried.
as the boy climbed
into the back,
i couldn't help but feel
scared.
not for the girl
in the movie,
but for myself.
because every time
i close my eyes,
i taste fireball,
i hear that ******* music,
and i see his eyes.
the eyes that can
pierce the darkness
and jump right into
my *******
nightmares.
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