I guess this means we've moved on.



Doesn't seem like two years.

Doesn't seem like one day

sometimes.



One day, I didn't think about you at all.

I sat down and wept the next day.



When I see fireworks,

I think about you.

The fourth is a hard day for me.

Sometimes,

when the sky is all lit up,

I imagine you riding the fireworks.



Today,

we toasted you with Dr. Pepper.



Nobody cried.

There were a couple of sad faces.

I was probably one of them.

Some people said some things.

I wanted to,

but,

I couldn't think of anything to say.



When I held a marker,

to sign a piece of orange butcher paper,

last words to you,

I couldn't think of anything to say.

I scribbled something about missing you.



When I was supposed to write something on a balloon,

a message to you,

I couldn't think of anything to say.

I scribbled something about the sun.



When candle wax covered my fingers

as I tried to talk to your mom,

I couldn't think of anything to say.

I mumbled something about how sorry I was.



I have a pencil and a dollar.

I keep thinking,

that I should buy a Dr. Pepper

with the dollar,

and use the pencil

to write you a letter.



What would I say?

What possible words could I have,

to say something to you?



You were good.

You were kind.

You were funny.

You took the top half of a nutter butter and the bottom half of an Oreo.

You called them Be-Bops.

You made us laugh.

You made us cry.

You changed us all forever.



NO! NO! NO! NO!

Not good enough!

Never good enough!

Where are the words!

WHERE ARE THE WORDS!

Why can I never say the right thing to you!

I always know the right thing to say!

WHERE ARE MY WORDS!



Where?



I guess this means we've moved on.

But not really.



Because your my ghost now.

Stealing the right words from my mouth.



Use them better than I could,

Bobby.