Sometimes

I miss you

I miss the way you would touch my hair and tell me how you liked it best curly.

I miss the way you would sit and play your shiny new guitar, and your eyes would cloud with the past. I miss the way you told me stories about serenading her.

I miss the endless stories of your life. Some that I never got to hear from your voice.

I remember your funeral. The poem I put together. The tears that welled in my eyes that day. The thought that you would hate to see me cry.

I miss the seemingly endless stream of curses that flowed out of your mouth.

I miss sitting on the rotting dock with you, casting lines, and pulling them in.

I miss your laugh, I miss your eyes, I miss your face, I miss the way you talked, I miss your sense of humour.

I miss the way my mom could talk about you without crying.

I remember the absolute stillness of that night.

I remember crying so much that I couldn’t cry anymore.

I miss you

Sometimes