i think about you everyday.
everyday.
i think about you every day.
when i laugh i feel like i've stolen the mirth straight from your mouth and the thought of it just rapes the joy from the sound.
i stare at my hands for hours and remember the last time i touched you. i was rubbing lotion into your hands, desperately trying to massage a message into your fingers.
hold on, granny
just hold on...
i look in the mirror and see you in the tilt of my eyes, the fullness of my lips, the lone dimple in my left cheek.
it's just not fucking ENOUGH.
shadows aren't enough. i don't wanna wait for your whispers on the wind anymore. they're not enough.
i don't wanna just remember you were here. it's NOT ENOUGH.
i don't wanna stare at pictures and think about how beautiful you WERE or how funny you WERE or think of you in any form of past tense.
i don't wanna watch law and order criminal intent and remember how much you hated the lead detective because he was a self-righteous know-it-all.
i don't wanna think about brooklyn and be reminded you're no longer there.
i don't wanna watch the mets knowing that in a brownstone in bedstuy you're not laying on your bed listening to the exact same game.
i don't wanna look at your phone number i still keep in my cell phone and know when i call it you won't pick up.
what i want
what i want
what i WANT
is for YOU to be HERE.
laughing at me as i try to convince you the braves are gonna win the world series
telling me you ain't 'studdin' me after i crack on your mets
complaining about aunt cheryl while i roll my eyes and say to myself "damn, i can't have a conversation with you without cheryl all up in it..."
grinning wickedly at me after you beat me at a game of conquian, then saying "well some coons can, and some coons can't!" or "deal the cards, joe, my fingaz soe!"
calling me a punk cuz i won't go to the bathroom at night when i'm at your house cuz i'm afraid of the mice
what i want more than anything is to be held in your arms and squeezed until i can barely breathe. you're the only one who can give hugs like that.
i wish i had spent more time with you as an adult. it's like most of my memories of you come from when i was a kid. i didn't appreciate you enough when i grew up. i just assumed you would always be around. you were just too crafty to get caught up in dying. now i'm thinking back at how i played myself cuz you died and now i'm sitting here in front of a fucking computer monitor pouring my grief into a few keystrokes like this exercise is gonna be enough to pull the the pain from my heart. writing this entry ain't gonna take me back in time to when you were alive and i was smarter and knew to spend more time with you with the understanding that tomorrow ain't promised. all this entry is doing is making me feel more like a fucking idiot for letting all that time go by without calling you or visiting you. it's reminding me of how much i'm going to always miss you.
and how every day
every.FUCKING.DAY
i have to live with the empty feeling of our unfinished reel.
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