A Better Place Now

When my walls come crashing down,
and the emotions I hide come out,
I find myself thinking of him.

Thinking of the his eyes,
which always shown with the bluest blue,
bluer than the sky on a clear summer day.

Thinking of his laugh,
soft and gentle like a warm jacket
on a cold winter day.

I think about his voice,
always sweet, yet sharp,
like a fresh lemonade.

I think about the hours we spent together,
watching old movies at the drive though,
stargazing by the old willow tree.

I remember the way he talked,
as he pointed out the constellations,
it seemed as if his soul was smiling too.

Sometimes, I think I still see him,
parking his bike by the corner store,
or sitting with his feet dangling at the town docks.

But he’s never there,
it’s only ever a trick of the light,
or a cruel joke of my own imagination.

Because he’s gone,

all of him is gone,

and I can only hope he’s in a better place now.

 

Cate

VT

18 years old

More by Cate

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    the pastor’s words are soft, sugarcoated. 
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  • Lavender

    I let the lavender plant die.

    It wilted,
    then it dried
    and it withered,
    then it died.

    I got sick of my clothes smelling like
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    me of your shampoo.
  • silent.

    glossy blue bubbles, golden rays shine through the window.
    i reach my fingers out, your soccer hoodie is pulled
    up past my knuckles, resting over chipped orange nail polish.
    wine red satin sheets, my phone is on my nightstand.