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addy_lilpeeplover13Poems
Five More Minutes I wish it wasn’t true, I wish it wasn’t you, and I keep thinking what’s the point in wishing when it doesn’t change anything, doesn’t rewind time, doesn’t bring you back to me— but I still do it anyway, because some part of me refuses to believe this is real. I keep asking myself if there was something I could’ve done, something I missed, something I should’ve said sooner, like maybe there was a version of this where I’m next to you right now instead of holding onto pieces of you that only exist in my memory. I just needed five more minutes, just one more day, one more night of being ********* like nothing could touch us, one more chance to tell you I love you without it being the last time. You were like my older brother, not by blood but by everything that mattered, the way you showed up, the way you protected, the way you made everything feel okay even when it wasn’t. I keep thinking about our code— 001— how it didn’t need explaining, how it just meant I need you, and we came, no hesitation, fifteen minutes and we were there, because that’s who we were for each other. I think about that night, how fast everything changed, how one second we were just alive and normal and the next nothing made sense. I remember holding your hand, refusing to let go, talking to you like my voice could keep you here, like if I tried hard enough I could stop it. I remember reaching back for you when they pulled me away, like distance could be undone if I just tried a little harder— but I couldn’t. I think about the hospital, the lights that didn’t care, the waiting room that felt too heavy, how my body gave out, how I couldn’t breathe right, couldn’t stop shaking. Calling Dakota— “hey, what’s up Addy”— like everything was still normal, and knowing I was about to break him the same way I just broke. The silence, then him falling apart, and me falling apart too, in a different place but the same moment. The funeral— waking up at twelve, standing outside because I couldn’t go in, Dakota pulling me into a hug that felt too much like you, walking in anyway. Seeing you like that— still, quiet, not you— trying to speak, trying to explain how someone like you fit into words. Caring, funny, kind, reckless, protective. Crying in front of everyone even though I tried not to. And that sound— when they closed it— that final sound that never left me. After everything, your jacket, your cologne— I still have them. I hold the jacket like it might hold me together, spray the cologne just to feel close to you again, and it works for a second before it hurts even worse. I think about the little things— the things no one else would understand. You chasing me down the road with a shoe because I stole your vape, threatening to beat my *** while I was laughing so hard I couldn’t run straight, because it was in my pocket the whole time and I was helping you look for it. Cops getting called, and us still laughing like nothing could ever go wrong. Sneaking out, you pulling up by my dad’s place, music already blasting, driving with nowhere to go, the warehouse, the hammock on the beams, speakers shaking everything, dancing, laughing, being ********* like time didn’t exist. Skating late at night, streetlights buzzing, you riding ahead, turning back to make sure I was good. The time I fell— hard— trying to act like I was fine, but you knew I wasn’t. You didn’t even hesitate. You just picked me up, carried me like it was nothing, took me somewhere safe, cleaned me up, wrapped my ankle, stayed until I was okay. That’s who you were. I stopped skating for a while because it didn’t feel right without you, because everything felt empty, because every memory hit too hard. But I’m trying again now, because I know you wouldn’t want me to stop living just because you had to. I wear your shoes now— black and white Converse mid tops— and every step feels like I’m carrying you in a way I can’t explain. I miss your voice. I miss your laugh. I miss your hugs. I miss the way you made everything feel simple, like nothing was as bad as it seemed. What I’d do to see your face again, anything— just to laugh like we used to, just to hear you say my name one more time. I wish I could be half the person you were. I wish the universe had taken me first— even though I know that’s not how it works. If you’re looking down right now, just know I’m trying. I’m living without you, but nothing feels the same. I pretend I’m okay when someone says your name, I smile when people are watching, I laugh when I’m supposed to— but inside I’m still there, in the moment everything changed. I wish it wasn’t true. I wish it wasn’t you. And I’d give anything— anything at all— for five more minutes. 🤍
0
Apr 26
Apr 26, 2026 at 4:03 PM UTC
Five More Minutes
Five More Minutes I wish it wasn’t true, I wish it wasn’t you, and I keep thinking what’s the point in wishing when it doesn’t change anything, doesn’t rewind time, doesn’t bring you back to me— but I still do it anyway, because some part of me refuses to believe this is real. I keep asking myself if there was something I could’ve done, something I missed, something I should’ve said sooner, like maybe there was a version of this where I’m next to you right now instead of holding onto pieces of you that only exist in my memory. I just needed five more minutes, just one more day, one more night of being ********* like nothing could touch us, one more chance to tell you I love you without it being the last time. You were like my older brother, not by blood but by everything that mattered, the way you showed up, the way you protected, the way you made everything feel okay even when it wasn’t. I keep thinking about our code— 001— how it didn’t need explaining, how it just meant I need you, and we came, no hesitation, fifteen minutes and we were there, because that’s who we were for each other. I think about that night, how fast everything changed, how one second we were just alive and normal and the next nothing made sense. I remember holding your hand, refusing to let go, talking to you like my voice could keep you here, like if I tried hard enough I could stop it. I remember reaching back for you when they pulled me away, like distance could be undone if I just tried a little harder— but I couldn’t. I think about the hospital, the lights that didn’t care, the waiting room that felt too heavy, how my body gave out, how I couldn’t breathe right, couldn’t stop shaking. Calling Dakota— “hey, what’s up Addy”— like everything was still normal, and knowing I was about to break him the same way I just broke. The silence, then him falling apart, and me falling apart too, in a different place but the same moment. The funeral— waking up at twelve, standing outside because I couldn’t go in, Dakota pulling me into a hug that felt too much like you, walking in anyway. Seeing you like that— still, quiet, not you— trying to speak, trying to explain how someone like you fit into words. Caring, funny, kind, reckless, protective. Crying in front of everyone even though I tried not to. And that sound— when they closed it— that final sound that never left me. After everything, your jacket, your cologne— I still have them. I hold the jacket like it might hold me together, spray the cologne just to feel close to you again, and it works for a second before it hurts even worse. I think about the little things— the things no one else would understand. You chasing me down the road with a shoe because I stole your vape, threatening to beat my *** while I was laughing so hard I couldn’t run straight, because it was in my pocket the whole time and I was helping you look for it. Cops getting called, and us still laughing like nothing could ever go wrong. Sneaking out, you pulling up by my dad’s place, music already blasting, driving with nowhere to go, the warehouse, the hammock on the beams, speakers shaking everything, dancing, laughing, being ********* like time didn’t exist. Skating late at night, streetlights buzzing, you riding ahead, turning back to make sure I was good. The time I fell— hard— trying to act like I was fine, but you knew I wasn’t. You didn’t even hesitate. You just picked me up, carried me like it was nothing, took me somewhere safe, cleaned me up, wrapped my ankle, stayed until I was okay. That’s who you were. I stopped skating for a while because it didn’t feel right without you, because everything felt empty, because every memory hit too hard. But I’m trying again now, because I know you wouldn’t want me to stop living just because you had to. I wear your shoes now— black and white Converse mid tops— and every step feels like I’m carrying you in a way I can’t explain. I miss your voice. I miss your laugh. I miss your hugs. I miss the way you made everything feel simple, like nothing was as bad as it seemed. What I’d do to see your face again, anything— just to laugh like we used to, just to hear you say my name one more time. I wish I could be half the person you were. I wish the universe had taken me first— even though I know that’s not how it works. If you’re looking down right now, just know I’m trying. I’m living without you, but nothing feels the same. I pretend I’m okay when someone says your name, I smile when people are watching, I laugh when I’m supposed to— but inside I’m still there, in the moment everything changed. I wish it wasn’t true. I wish it wasn’t you. And I’d give anything— anything at all— for five more minutes. 🤍
addy_lilpeeplover13
Written by
addy_lilpeeplover13
15/F/wv
Apr 26
Apr 26, 2026 at 4:03 PM UTC
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