I was reading a novel in my room it was nothing special
Went down to for a snack
Came back with only the knowledge that you were dead
I couldn’t cry
I couldn’t sit
It seemed so disrespectful to go back reading
So I wrote
I prayed
I remembered
You cheeky grin when you got what you wanted
That confident swagger and that boastful tone
The way you tried to act all grown up one moment
The next you were hiding behind your mother’s skirts
I wrote and I wrote
My fingers ere numb wit the effort and my mind was full of your face
I scrambled to remember everything I could about you
Tried to it all down to immortalize what I could
Since you mortality had been so brutally proven
I wrote poems to grieve
Small ramblings about you as a person
Who I thought you would have grown up to become
The hours fell from the clock and dawn broke over the night sky
It seemed disrespectful to go to sleep
I thought it I could cry it would relieve the guilt
The tears wouldn’t come so I wrote
The ink dried up and the pencils grew dull
I typed till my eyes dried up
When I woke up I realized I had fallen asleep
I tried to remember more but then there was nothing left to write about
And so I took a shower
I ate what I meant to the night before
And I finished my novel