you touched me.
we came from tupperware and 2 to 3 sets of silverware.
with it i gave worms a home and with you i made fig jam and we put it in a mason jar.
i stared at my milk at your dinner table the way one stares at a speck in the gravel when one tries to balance on one foot,
to help from embarrassing myself in front of your older brother.
i loved him like my own; i loved you like any soul-searching, trampoline-jumping munchkin loves their best friend-
you touched me
as if i could just list off memories and believe that it compensates for our loss
and now i can't do anything more than to brush it off like life,
but that in and of itself makes me want to *****.
from tupperware, from textbooks...
to an eternity of unknown nothings and everythings,
you touched me and though i want to believe i've been through it,
though i say i've been through the dinner party irony of havoc, through the tupperware dilemma of sorts,
what faults in this life have i missed,
to help me understand what brought you to jump,
my trampoline companion with a curiosity and endless potential,
with textbooks and tupperware in hand?