It's getting old;
these anecdotes
of grief and pain.
Solutions silenced
to entertain.
Yet who am I
to obstain
when 6 years ago
feels like yesterday.
Chasing echos of laughter
as you fade away
into our past;
into my future.
Older than you,
but born as your junior.
I'd let the wound heal,
but I'd rather tear out the sutures.
Dabbling with the same mentality
that turned you into a user.
Oh Brother,
Oh Brother,
I'm addicted to
my memories of you.
Pausing my cause
to reflect on your loss.
And I'm still here,
6 years later,
motionless in fear.
Trying to make sense,
while refusing to forget
what I can't quite remember.