I've had nightmares 4 nights in a row and in 2 of those nightmares you were the star.
I wish I was ******* you, I wish I was making it up, I wish I didn't have the urge to staple my eyelids to my forehead
because to wake up and not feel insane is something I daydream about.

Is your heart made of gummies?
Are your fingernails made of daydreams
and your toenails made of nightmares?
Are your cheeks made of play-doh, perhaps?
Do your eyes leak waterfalls?
Is your nose full of gold?
Can your wingspan measure how much you'll miss me
Or even how long you'll be gone?
Can your mind measure the distance?
Will it remember me at all?

She wasn't the kind of person who fell in love slowly.
It was more of an immediate transportation
into love than a leap or a fall
She fell in love fast
She fell in love so fast it was hard to keep up.

Some time ago
I was reading this novel
It talked about how when you die
you're kept alive through the stories people tell about you.
So, I suppose,
in a way you're still here.
The stories people tell about you
are phenomenal to say the least.

One of my absolute favorite things
is the way my mom's eyes light up
when I do something you used to do,
and the way you can hear the nostalgia in her voice when she tells one of your legendary tales just one more time.

I LOVE hearing stories about you

I would read a whole book ten times over if I could
Every anecdote makes it feel like you're more like my dad and less like just a story.

Perhaps I'll share my adventures with you some day.