to just how small you were but how
big the hole was that you left behind
When he died,
I wonder if he drifted from room to room.
His dad buys a cake for what would have been
his fifteenth birthday. I think about
reading every tombstone in the city
until I find where they planted him.
The sunset was so beautiful the night
he left. You lost fifteen pounds.
Maybe you got smaller because
the guilt was eating you away.
You were home when he stained
the carpet but you couldn’t stop him.
It was the winter you would hibernate
like a bear. No one blames you
for staying in bed that year.
Since you slept through the sound
of a bullet going through drywall/skull
now you don’t sleep at all.
When you close your eyes
you can still see how white/red it was.
You don’t even want to blink anymore.
You ended up in a morgue, desperate
trying to get that image out of your head.
You replace his anguished face with
the well-rested one. He is so calm.
He does not blame you. You hope
god is real for his sake. Or not even god,
just heaven. Heaven is a place filled with
pugs and kittens and he’s
finally happy here. He’s finally happy.
Another holiday went by without you. I do hope that
there was one great firework show up there.