I was ten and you were fourteen
I thought you were the coolest thing.
Our families were close.
My father liked you and your father wasn't there.
Those were early days
Skaters were in and Green Day was sick.
I was a kid and probably bothered you
But you treated me like the younger sister you didn't have
And I worshiped you like any younger sibling would do.
You taught me to snowboard,
"Keep your toes up and I'll teach you how to jump."
You let me have some of your Rockstar
And I stayed up all night.
You'd make sure I was by your side
And if anyone got rough you'd push them out of the way.

My family moved away one day.
You'd visit but distance made it hard.
Age and struggles muddled it all.
I was fifteen when I saw the look on my father's face.
He said you died, the call came earlier that day.
Overdosed on stuff you took for ADHD.
They said it may have been a mistake
But deep down I know it wasn't.
You were smart and knew how that stuff worked.
You were in a rock and a hard place.
I felt the same when I was your age.
I can't snowboard to this day without thinking of you.
Playing Green Day on the CD player
And nodding our heads real cool.
Boulevard of Broken Dreams was written for you.
Things I associate with you feel like Deja vu.
David I still think of you.