he was smiling
and we were laughing
and then he was gone.
there was a loud noise
that made my ears ring.
I didn't realize what
had happened, but
I knew it was bad.
I ran as fast as I could.
I didn't look back.
my legs burned
but I knew that I
had to keep running,
no matter what.
I burst through the
door to our apartment,
panting and crying.
my family stared at me
and it took me a minute
to understand why.
I went to wipe my tears
with the back of my hand,
and the liquid was red.
those weren't my tears.
that wasn't my blood.
the realization hit me
like one punch after another.
a random car had
pulled up next to us.
my friend's brother was shot.
I was standing next to him.
I ran. he wasn't behind me.
as my fear faded,
my memory became clearer.
the realizations that hit
my mind must have
punched my stomach too.
I was suddenly sick.
my ***** coated our kitchen floor
and my family took me into
our bathroom to clean myself up.
my friend and his brother
had known me since I was born.
I grew up with them.
I would continue growing,
but now he wouldn't.
I watched as his blood
blended with the water
in our apartment's shower.
I watched as it swirled
down the drain until
the red was all gone.
my last memory of
the kid I grew up with
is watching his blood swirl
down my shower drain.
it's been years since that day.
I've grown up. I moved out
of the city a long time ago.
it's over. he's gone.
there is nothing I can do,
and there was nothing
that I could have done.
but somehow, I still feel guilty
for washing him off of me.
