There were the dogs and the faint scent of Coke and Kraft Mac and Cheese

The kitchen island counter with your phone propped up with Netflix playing 

There were the dogs running under our chairs begging for food

Me wrestling you for a hug because you never really liked them but you needed one

There were the long nights waiting for the next season of the shows we used to watch

It was the vacations to places I could never afford to go

It was Panera

but we only went there once

I knew the garage code and your parents' phone numbers and middle names

I was a second daughter or an extra grandchild or cousin

It was the first Christmas without your dad there

It was my mistakes that built that wall of stone between us

We had simply run out of time

The curtain had closed on our six act play

The paint and the nails couldn’t hide our issues

There wasn’t a color I could mix with the half-empty cans that would match yours

I had memorized the lines long ago but you always read ahead

The trials and tribulations that fell in the lines I didn’t read between

We had become a silent movie only to be watched by little and remembered by few

The sounds of crushing cans and Just Dance have faded

The purple of your bedroom had turned grey

The lights on the water had gone out 

The plans we had made were cancelled

The pictures pulled off the wall had taken chipped paint and chips of me with them

Now I only ever see you in passing but the sound of the silence trapped between eye contact has gotten so loud

It’s like I’m missing something even though we’ve both moved on

We’re better now

I’m better now

I hope you’re better now

I haven’t gotten back the air that left my lungs even though I’m still breathing

You’re still breathing

I changed my ringtone to squash the memories of my kitchen table and the tears that followed

My heart aches at the red dot from my Snapchat memories

The key to unlocking things I forgot I knew

The red dot that forces those memories to stay

But I can’t delete them

I can’t delete that part of myself

I can’t delete you from me

And I know that urge to send you those memories won’t ever go away

I won’t delete your number

Just in case

That short-lived hope at redemption I don’t know if I want

But still, My reaches into nothingness after time had run out always came up dry

The messages never send

I’m sorry

Tell Mom I say hi