The sound of a new song, in a genre you can't remember.
It's new. It's you, too, and that's the smile of it all.
The feeling of puzzle pieces fitting together.
Even when the picture on the box isn't what you create.
I miss when you'd wish for me on every eyelash, and star.
When spilled milk from your Canadian bags,
made me laugh like every usual American boy.
And my laughter made you laugh.
And then we'd get lost in the sounds and infectious
nature of love.
You wore joy like a hospital bracelet. It'd slip off,
your thin wrists, and I'd put it back. As a reminder,
that this is where you belong. In my arms as escape
from the busy throng of busier life and anxieties.
We used to hear excitement in each other. The passions
the beliefs. The strangeness of love on a shifting divide
of borders. Though on the same continent you felt
a world away, yet together in my room. I miss that decency.
The first thing I did when I heard you were gone was check Skype.
My emails. My phone. My texts. Our everything was still there.
The messages. The emoticons. The stories. The pictures.
The links.
Like you actually existed once. Not a delusion.
Your mother still calls me, did you know that?
I care for her as I can, but she needs a daughter's love.
Remember that afternoon when we both prayed,
that our skies would both be clear. And then that night,
we talked on the phone and watched the meteors.
We named them silly things,
"Pupper's Rocket Blast"
We were strange folk.
Now I'm alone.
I don't think my friends think you existed.
Like how I doubted you once after you died.
That was my grief, but to them, I'm just a lonely guy.
Not above a lie.
I wish other people knew you. I wish I could talk to them.
I wish I could live you through them. I wish I had closure.
We made a wish for clear skies,
You made a wish for me to see,
what you could make out behind some clouds,
that I had created out of thin air.
But when I wish, they're dogeared pages on a book we shared.