You came to me like a star. Bold and bright and untouchable. And you gave me the night sky, like nothing I had ever known before. The crescent moon and the Milky Way, constellations innumerable, possibilities vast and limitless. You held my hand and showed me how to fly. My very own boy who would never grow up; you said “to live would be an awfully big adventure,” and I held your hand and never let you go.  

For every fight we ever had, for every letter you ever wrote, we were summer’s children, laughing and drinking in the dark. And when every rain came down, we ran to that pink house and waited out the storm.

And now every time it rains, I still remember every word. I still dream of every kiss. I still get butterflies. You and me down by the water. Close your eyes and kiss me.

I still believe in fairies and pirates and Indian braves. I still wait at my window for you to come and fly me away. I can’t erase the dreams we had, the words we said at dawn. For all the plans we laid, the promises we made and, in spite of everything, the price we had to pay.

And now every time it rains, every thunderstorm, every firework. Every shot of whiskey, every pool cue, every bar stool. You’re still here with me, the voice inside my head. So don’t waste your time on me. I won’t defeat these shadows.

I wish I could fly across the ocean, thousands of miles. Like a ghost, a shadow. Just to see that smile, just to tell you, I got Seattle on my horizon.

And now every time it rains, I still remember every word. I still dream of every kiss. I still get butterflies. You and me down by the water. Close your eyes and kiss me.