February 22, 2011

I remember the dark garnet staining on our pristine pearl carpet
I remember the nonstop ring of sirens. I remember
the Crowded House albums sprawled across the long yellow hall.
I remember seeing one tan, limp arm. Motionless.
I remember breaking down seeing the rifle.
I remember the slight tear
in the carpet, small enough for you to know what had happened,
to put together the missing puzzle pieces.
I remember him doing it all for the love of his life:
my Mother. I remember pretending it wasn’t real.
It was a game of make-believe.
I remember feeling like my heart had stopped.
I remember choking up and losing all self control I had once had.
I remember the unforeseen shock. I remember the strength it took.
I remember my mom crying
on my shoulder. I remember locking myself in my room. 
I remember picking up the Disney frame
holding the photo of us. The picture perfect moment
of me and you, dancing together. I remember tears all coming back
I remember thinking he’s never going to see me grow up.
I remember saying why wasn’t I there for him.
I remember he came to my school that day but
our paths
didn't cross.