we were the sun and the mountain tops at sunset

inseparable

joined at the heart and never

did we not cry when it was time to go home

blue ranch doritos and the smell of the ocean

salt mingled with barbecue on the porch

rain and bookstores and massive puddles

as big as the space between us now

photos kept in books 

with titles that remind me of you

images, stilled in time,

you, hunched over, your tongue sticking out of your mouth

me, hands on my hips, a playful frown on my face,

each of us facing the other

unaware that your mother was taking a photo

beds shared together, whispering about the monsters in the closet

ice cream cones painting our faces

car rides with my father, our father, you had none by birth but when we met

he was your father too

your hair, angelic, blonde, and curling off the top of your head

growing shorter, straighter, darker as you grew older, taller

meaner

mine growing longer as the you-shaped

hole in my life

the shadows in the corner of my eye

disappear from view

i am standing on the edge of the shore

where we played as children,

throwing sand into the waves,

laughing as we ran,

except the water is cold and 

my heart is frozen and you

are no longer here to 

thaw me out.