It's so easy to slip back into old patterns,
like the floral quilt your grandma sewed that's hanging on your wall with nails or thumbtacks, next to the painted tulips much like the ones I searched many meadows
(grocery aisles) for.
It's so easy to forget the memories.
Block out the bad ones and reminisce on the lovely walks through the patch of woods between your brothers house and the street you ran down, the street I always promised to run down with you, the street I picked flowers from the ditches instead for you.
It's so easy to name the songs you always got stuck in your head.
Which ones you thought sounded prettier on piano and which ones you liked to strum to.
The ones that made me believe in angels because there sat one, on the bench directly in front of me.
It makes it easy to get stuck in my head.
It makes it easy to skip breakfast,
and lunch. And dinner...
And to slice yellow bananas for my peanut butter toast,
only to skip breakfast again...
It's easy to smoke a cigarette and think of the dock by the pond and how I never wanted to taste the smoke on your lips or the **** in your lungs and how I can no longer go a full day without the numb buzz in my brain.
It's hard to forget the memories.
Of swings and soft songs and snowballs and sunflowers.
Of screams and scary dreams and starry storms and ****** showers.

Please remember.
Don't you ever forget.
The sun shone brightly from behind your lids, and even when you cried, there were rainbows in the sky.
It's was never easy to love you but it was even harder not to.
It's hard to look back at and smile, but sometimes I don't even have to try.