"huskies" poems - Hello Poetry

The last time I ever saw you We were sitting on the living room couch You had a Taylor Swift album in your hand and you were telling me how much you liked her music A strange thing for me to remember, maybe, but I do. I wanted to dedicate that song to you but I didn't know how to without spilling my vulnerability Back then, before I knew it was an okay thing to do, to be vulnerable, that is. You've been gone almost six years, maybe seven Less than a decade but a third of my life I've spent the last trying to keep your memory alive in my head, I never wrote you down on paper and maybe I should have. I ask for stories about you like pieces of candy, a child begging on special occasion for a moment of sweetness I want to know all of it, the good, the bad, you lived a life that I am still trying to learn fully. You were supposed to see me that night I didn't cry at your funeral Nobody taught me that keeping it all tucked in isn't a skill to be proud of it, but oh, I was good at it. I think about the huskies, the two of them, how they kept you alive in a way I'm getting one inked in a few weeks, a portrait of your favorite kind of beauty I think the artist can do it justice, hopefully. Uncle, we called you, followed by toy You were more entertainment than authority and we loved that more than anything Uncle, I don't call you uncle anymore I don't know if those titles can be used in past tense, it feels weird so I only say your first name. I have so little to remember you by Mostly stories and dinner parties and memories of all of us jumping on the couch together Uncle, you were, but child, still Searching, searching, lost always. I am looking for a way to recall what I cannot Uncle, I hope you're proud of me. Uncle, All I have is this similar blood and the memory of snow falling on that february day, my boots making prints in your name, Uncle, A strange thing for me to remember, maybe, but I do.

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May 11, 2015

May 11, 2015 at 2:24 AM UTC

danielle-shorr

Uncle

The last time I ever saw you We were sitting on the living room couch You had a Taylor Swift album in your hand and you were telling me how much you liked her music A strange thing for me to remember, maybe, but I do. I wanted to dedicate that song to you but I didn't know how to without spilling my vulnerability Back then, before I knew it was an okay thing to do, to be vulnerable, that is. You've been gone almost six years, maybe seven Less than a decade but a third of my life I've spent the last trying to keep your memory alive in my head, I never wrote you down on paper and maybe I should have. I ask for stories about you like pieces of candy, a child begging on special occasion for a moment of sweetness I want to know all of it, the good, the bad, you lived a life that I am still trying to learn fully. You were supposed to see me that night I didn't cry at your funeral Nobody taught me that keeping it all tucked in isn't a skill to be proud of it, but oh, I was good at it. I think about the huskies, the two of them, how they kept you alive in a way I'm getting one inked in a few weeks, a portrait of your favorite kind of beauty I think the artist can do it justice, hopefully. Uncle, we called you, followed by toy You were more entertainment than authority and we loved that more than anything Uncle, I don't call you uncle anymore I don't know if those titles can be used in past tense, it feels weird so I only say your first name. I have so little to remember you by Mostly stories and dinner parties and memories of all of us jumping on the couch together Uncle, you were, but child, still Searching, searching, lost always. I am looking for a way to recall what I cannot Uncle, I hope you're proud of me. Uncle, All I have is this similar blood and the memory of snow falling on that february day, my boots making prints in your name, Uncle, A strange thing for me to remember, maybe, but I do.