I awake each day
hoping,
waiting,
to breathe in,
and feel like I'm home.
I wait,
for a breath of familiarity.

fa·mil·iar·i·ty
fəˌmilyˈerədē/
noun
close acquaintance with or knowledge of something.

Like, for example,
the smell of your bedsheets in the morning,
what they smell like at night,
the warm grip of anxiety on your stomach
or the taste of your tears.

Or,or,
the taste of mom's chocolate-chip cookies,
or how strong dad's aftershave smells first thing in the morning,
the sound of my brothers fighting,
or how home felt,
just right.

The sound of the overhead fan
immerses the vast room with calmness.
The breeze it gives off
coats my arms with goosebumps, harmless.
(study sessions at the library)

Laying in bed at night, shirtless, sweaty
I can feel the moisture pooling up at the bottom of my spine.
The windows open, cooling the perspiration from my back,
the neighbors AC gives off a low whine.
(late night sleepovers)

Mosquito bites cover my legs,
on a humid fourth of July night.
Gunshots, no, fireworks,
light up the night like dynamite.
(our scary/happy night)

Lonely nights, wait no sorry, happy nights,
with no one, everyone.
Long walks at 5:00PM no 3:00AM,
wait no 5:00PM with anyone.
(you're not here, what do I do?)

I can hear people walking at night,
but I'm not with them.
I can hear my pulse in my ears,
it's 5:32AM
(I don't know if you're alive)

I remember eating popsicles with you,
we got the red stains around our lips.
My hand around your wrist,
your pulse at my fingertips.
(will I feel it again?)

Last day of summer,
I decide to visit you at the hospital.
You're holding his hand,
while eating our rocket popsicle.
("your" rocket popsicle)

My Favorite (Hated) Summer