The last time I ever saw you
We were sitting on the living room couch
You had a Taylor Swift album in your hand and
you were telling me how much you liked her music
A strange thing for me to remember, maybe,
but I do.
I wanted to dedicate that song to you but
I didn't know how to without spilling my vulnerability
Back then, before I knew it was an okay thing to do,
to be vulnerable, that is.
You've been gone almost six years, maybe seven
Less than a decade but a third of my life
I've spent the last trying to keep your memory alive in
my head, I never wrote you down on paper and
maybe I should have.
I ask for stories about you like pieces of candy,
a child begging on special occasion for a moment of sweetness
I want to know all of it, the good, the bad,
you lived a life that I am still trying to learn
fully.
You were supposed to see me that night
I didn't cry at your funeral
Nobody taught me that keeping it all tucked in
isn't a skill to be proud of it, but oh,
I was good at it.
I think about the huskies, the two of them,
how they kept you alive in a way
I'm getting one inked in a few weeks,
a portrait of your favorite kind of beauty
I think the artist can do it justice,
hopefully.
Uncle, we called you, followed by toy
You were more entertainment than authority and
we loved that more than anything
Uncle, I don't call you uncle anymore
I don't know if those titles can be used in past tense,
it feels weird so
I only say your first name.
I have so little to remember you by
Mostly stories and dinner parties and memories of
all of us jumping on the couch together
Uncle, you were, but child, still
Searching, searching,
lost always.
I am looking for a way to recall what I cannot
Uncle,
I hope you're proud of me.
Uncle,
All I have is this similar blood and the
memory of snow falling on that february day,
my boots making prints in your name,
Uncle,
A strange thing for me to remember, maybe,
but I do.
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 2:24 AM UTC
The last time I ever saw you
We were sitting on the living room couch
You had a Taylor Swift album in your hand and
you were telling me how much you liked her music
A strange thing for me to remember, maybe,
but I do.
I wanted to dedicate that song to you but
I didn't know how to without spilling my vulnerability
Back then, before I knew it was an okay thing to do,
to be vulnerable, that is.
You've been gone almost six years, maybe seven
Less than a decade but a third of my life
I've spent the last trying to keep your memory alive in
my head, I never wrote you down on paper and
maybe I should have.
I ask for stories about you like pieces of candy,
a child begging on special occasion for a moment of sweetness
I want to know all of it, the good, the bad,
you lived a life that I am still trying to learn
fully.
You were supposed to see me that night
I didn't cry at your funeral
Nobody taught me that keeping it all tucked in
isn't a skill to be proud of it, but oh,
I was good at it.
I think about the huskies, the two of them,
how they kept you alive in a way
I'm getting one inked in a few weeks,
a portrait of your favorite kind of beauty
I think the artist can do it justice,
hopefully.
Uncle, we called you, followed by toy
You were more entertainment than authority and
we loved that more than anything
Uncle, I don't call you uncle anymore
I don't know if those titles can be used in past tense,
it feels weird so
I only say your first name.
I have so little to remember you by
Mostly stories and dinner parties and memories of
all of us jumping on the couch together
Uncle, you were, but child, still
Searching, searching,
lost always.
I am looking for a way to recall what I cannot
Uncle,
I hope you're proud of me.
Uncle,
All I have is this similar blood and the
memory of snow falling on that february day,
my boots making prints in your name,
Uncle,
A strange thing for me to remember, maybe,
but I do.
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