I miss you in places you’ve never seen before.

The swirling autumnal leaves remind me of your eyes and that’s pretty strange considering your eyes are blue.

But nonetheless,

the mess of browns and reds and yellows take me back

to staring in the ocean that went dry right in front of my own eyes.

I was there to see your passions

ignite like a brush fire

and I was there to see them all extinguish at once.

I was there to see you paint with independence again,

and I was there when you stuck your brush back into insecurity.

Before I said I missed you,

and I do.

I miss you in my morning coffee

because you loved to tell me it would kill me one day.

You’re probably right about that, too;

caffeine makes me crazy.

I miss you in the back of this really run down study hall

where I like to go and play guitar.

It reminds me of your bedroom

and how my desire to learn was sparked in a place of

chaos

and filth,

but it was something I can never repay you for.

I miss you the way you used to be.

When you were a brushfire,

at least you burned with a passion of an inferno.

When you painted,

you painted spectrums no one had ever seen before,

and now you borrow colors from someone else.

I guess, what I am trying to say is,

that my world has recently been deprived of paint.

And I like fire.

So, if the autumnal swirl reaches you,

know it reminds me of you.

If shivers are sent down your spine after a good song,

know that reminds me of you.

Know that I am trying my hardest,

with paint on my hands

and burnt fingertips,

to capture the magic you once had.

The magic

you once instilled in me,

so maybe one day I can instill it back in you.