I still think about the things
you showed me in your apartment
with such excitement as a child
and my inherent fondness towards you

I still think about how you instabilities and
the t i c king ideas that kept you awake and bustling
until your eyes forced your body to
shut down

I still think about the golden sunrise
and sky on the day the police
found your mind scattered across an empty
kitchen floor

I still think about and wonder what would of happened if my mom had picked up your phone call at three in the morning

I still think about your empty house,
your empty head
you're empty