If I painted a picture of you
I think I’d call it Daniel and his Favorite Cigarette
and I’d delay passing the sugar
because you couldn’t wait four more seconds
for your daughter to finish her story.
I would buy all of the newspapers in town
with the crummy headline Fauster & Brown
Up in Sales for 3rd Week Straight and burn them
all the way through to the sports section
just to watch your favorite team’s numbers
go up in flames. I would rewrite
all those Father’s Day cards, remove the empty seat
in the third row on the left from my poetry reading
that I had reserved, stop putting new batteries
in the remote when you complains. But of course

I won’t. I’ll just make a scene at Sunday brunch
after we finish saying prayers to my dead big brother
at his grave, that dash like a tattoo on my bones—
Yes, Dad, I could have worn a tie
but I like the fact that I still smell like yesterday
cause I know my brother will never know
the scent of tomorrow. I will only curse
between sips of coffee and I’ll stroke my sisters hair
so she knows at least someone has been listening
these past ten years.

My sister was my first ward.
When GOD saw fit to send
her to me he forgot to include any warnings.
She would drink all the juice,
and play with all the toys.
She was cuter then me, smaller than me,
and could not sin. At least that’s what my family thought.
I didn’t know it was possible to love and hate that hard until we grew up.
As a fledgling guardian I had to do well in school,
respect teachers, and keep out of trouble
because she followed in my wake.
I was her windbreaker that protected her from the storm.

My overprotectiveness of all Double X chromosome
carriers is pretty much her fault.
I made plans at night on how I would keep us both safe
if we ever had the misfortune of being alone in the world.
I blazed trails and fought demons
so she would never know darkness.
And I failed.
I made her hate me and the weird thing was I was content
with the hate because she was safe.
She’ll never see the horrors of the frontlines.
Never know my scars.

It’s taken two years to get my best friend back.
No matter what happens or the gap that may arise
she will always be my friend.
Now I’ll always mess with her, give her advice,
answer when she calls, remind her of her embarrassing moments,
and I will always be the first to defend her.
She’s my littlest one and I’ll have her back until the day I leave this world.
Love you lil sis sis.

We are a sequence
A song played to the heavens
We are infinite

The saying goes that men in the Army do more by 7 A.M. than I do in the entirety of my day, and waking up to you already dressed for the day while I am still
wiping the sleep from my eyes reminds me that your job isn't as simple as sitting in an office eight hours a day.
There is no preparation for the trepedation of waiting
for the call to come, "We need you to ship out."
There was no manual given to me when
I fell head over heels for you, that you,
my brave reservist, may actually take on foreign soil,
combat boots running, and how I, back on
home turf, am to remotely handle your absence when I can't go more than a nights sleep without your voice in my ear
and your arm wrapped around my torso.
This is the curse and blessing of a military relationship.
Holding you a little bit tighter in the night yet still waiting for the bed to be empty, keeping you hand in mine while keeping an eye on the phone.
And most importantly knowing that if that day comes, I'll be waiting for you when you step off the plane.
I'll be waiting.

Remember this: you only die once,
                                      
                                   but you live everyday.