Poetry

I want to live,

I want to hear a million songs and dance in the rain,

I want to kiss and make love,

I want to see the world from every angle,

meet people that I will love and ones I won't,

I'm sorry,

I didn't do more for us,

that I didn't treat you like you were enough.

I'm sorry,

for not calling you more,

and didn't hold you when you needed it most.

I'm sorry,

up high in the sky

where birds come to fly 

two clouds that sit perfectly on time 

with the air that comes rounding thinner 

white fluff that twirls like sand 

the world is orange

and i mean orange 

like a sepia photo in which your grandparents

stand stiff & silent,

unsmiling, their clothes starched

for the occasion,

I am here to say this

in only facts

because I don't rely on feelings.

Fact:

Your Mr. Remarkable is quiet.

Cold.

Closed off.

Didn't interact unless

absolutely necessary

smiled maybe twice.

You were always

the original scientist

that inspired the hearts of malleable

kids. They would be sitting in circles

of those numbered matts

with fiddling fingers

that only were (slightly) off task.

You were always a good actor

But you don’t act like you used to

Don’t lie

I can see the pain in your eyes

Your silent cries,

Your pleas for help

And I know in their eyes

Hi

Yes

What is your name?

How is your day?

Those are the words that apparently

are vital for learning a language

only if the owl is saying it while

this is for all of the invisible people

you are seen

and you are loved

I don't know who needs to hear this today, but

you are enough and you are loved

:)

            Hey, I know it’s been a while, but my grandparents still ask about you and I still remember your birthday. I guess what I’m trying to say is I’m still holding onto the pieces I have left of you. 

When I was small,

the sky was a storybook—

every page dotted with stars

too many to count,

each one whispering my name.

But now the nights glow

with lights that never sleep.