Missing Pieces

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My sweet sixteen was
nothing but bitter.
Your card never arrived.
This room used to shelter
us both, but is now half vacant, haunting
the memories of a childhood once shared.

Most nights it pours droplets
of salt water, falling heavier than
your abandoned luggage.
But through the foggy mist of my dreams
you’re there—
conquering rapids that sweep most of us away,
reaching great heights most never
even dare to imagine climbing.
But you were never like most of us.

When you left
the shock didn’t strike me
like a bolt of lightning, neither did it
spark any feelings of fear.
But now,
the monotonous days come and go
with nothing but silent pain,
while mom and dad mourn without sound.

They said your car turned up
in the middle of nowhere,
2,000 miles from here.
But you had already left that too.
Next came the people who said
they watched you walk right Into the Wild.
You left them with the same glassy-eyed look
that I hide every day.



I imagine your luminescent smile,
beating down on me like natural rays
sprouting from the sun.
Sometimes a dark cloud tumbles over
this image, leaving me with nothing
more than the same darkness you felt
as you shut your eyes for the last time,
alone.
You always knew you were alone.





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