"it'll be quick, just count to three."
i sit drenched in nostalgia,
(also known as "Polo Blue")
afloat in thoughts.
and you told me not to panic
because if you panic,
you drown.

"one."
most days i'd sit on the roof wanting to scream,
and sometimes i'd want to jump off.
but i did neither because i knew you wouldn't come rushing
to kiss all that was hurt.
(like that one time i scabbed my knee at aunt norma's, do you remember?)
so instead i sat there wishing to see you hang
the christmas lights like you did
every year, the day after thanksgiving.

"two."
i'd be tempted by your ties still
hanging in your closet that still smell like you.
but i knew you'd tell me to quit playing with them,
(like when i was five, do you remember that?)
because you'd need them for work the next day.
so i left them alone hoping to be able to
watch you tie your tie once more and
actually learn to tie one myself.

"three."
i'd throw myself into the pool,
hoping the rules of buoyancy wouldn't apply.
but i keep floating above, just like you said i would.
(remember me being so scared to do that?)
i don't even panic anymore.
you taught me well,
but not well enough.
because it isn't panic that is drowning me.
it's the sea of thoughts that are
sinking me slowly, but surely.
i've counted to three and it's not quick enough.

so i continue to recount because
what you always said was true.
and i hope what you say is true,
because i keep hoping to hear you say,
"it'll be quick, just count to three."