Jan 2015
2 months and 21 days ago you took your last precious breath. I survive knowing I breath the same air you did.
2 years ago we drank beer and rolled around in the cemetary behind my house in the warm summer laughing at the way we tripped and our untied shoelaces and the way the stars glittered off the marble headstones
2 months and 14 days ago I crumbled in the back of a church while your stepfather read his favorite things about you.
2 months and 14 days ago I watched your casket lower into the dirt, the balloons the town let go for you, to follow you into the sky.
For 2 months and 14 days I watched the grass grow over you through Instagram and Snapchat, your name living on through Ariel size 12pt. when your name thundered out of my mouth while I drove, while your face begged me to stay in my dreams, while your lips screamed I'M RIGHT HERE only inches away from mine. Your laugh echoes in my ears and your smile clouds my vision, always.
Today I worked up the nerve to visit you for the first time in 2 months and 14 days. snow was twinkling off the marble and the sky was sad, the kind of sad where you can't seem to drag yourself out of bed. I knelt down as your ever-lasting candle flame burned a little brighter, and pressed my hands right above where you were. I don't know how long they were there for, but you couldn't touch me back. I left broken hearted. Fly high, my angel. I miss you, Chris.
2 years ago we drank beer and rolled around in the cemetary behind my house in the warm summer laughing at the way we tripped and our untied shoelaces and the way the stars glittered off the marble headstones
2 months and 14 days ago I crumbled in the back of a church while your stepfather read his favorite things about you.
2 months and 14 days ago I watched your casket lower into the dirt, the balloons the town let go for you, to follow you into the sky.
For 2 months and 14 days I watched the grass grow over you through Instagram and Snapchat, your name living on through Ariel size 12pt. when your name thundered out of my mouth while I drove, while your face begged me to stay in my dreams, while your lips screamed I'M RIGHT HERE only inches away from mine. Your laugh echoes in my ears and your smile clouds my vision, always.
Today I worked up the nerve to visit you for the first time in 2 months and 14 days. snow was twinkling off the marble and the sky was sad, the kind of sad where you can't seem to drag yourself out of bed. I knelt down as your ever-lasting candle flame burned a little brighter, and pressed my hands right above where you were. I don't know how long they were there for, but you couldn't touch me back. I left broken hearted. Fly high, my angel. I miss you, Chris.
