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Collin

By , Bangor, ME

I’m sorry for my stream of conscious.
I’m sorry I can’t spell my best right now,
and I can’t form the words I want to say.
Collin.
Collin with two L’s is how you introduced yourself in elementary school.
And at the funeral they gave out cards that said
“Call for Collin.”
It’s fitting that call has two L’s and suicide has none at all.
I think I’m mostly sad.

My roommate held a houseparty once.
It was right before Christmas.
Eyes glazed and vision blurry,
I told you about the boy in my English class with the beautiful hair.
You sat and you listened.
You laughed. You smiled.
You never said anything.
Silence only has one L, but so does laughter and love.

It’s the first time since graduation that I’ve seen this many people I grew up with.
Black dresses don’t look good in the rain.
I’m angry at you.
I’m frustrated with you.
I miss you.
Loneliness has two L’s.
And so do you.




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