your memory rests heavy on me today. i feel you on my skin.
i think i'm real fucked up, drinking to remember what it's like to feel, listening to ballads from my childhood. i like to remember. i like what i am when i remember. i'm little. and happy and sticky with summer sweat and dirty feet and poison ivy and a sun burned nose.
you loved me like no one can.
i loved you uniquely, too, you know?
what i want to say, i say everytime i write a poem.
but here it is again,
i don't believe everything happens for a reason.
i believe that your death was just another way for chaos to live in my blood.
but that i believe chaos is part of it.
you were part of it and we loved hard for a few years.
so, after years, i wish you were next to me.
people talk about their dads, and they don't get it.
they don't get what it's like living without - i get it.
and i fucking hate it. more and more everyday.
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