I cried myself to sleep again
thinking of the men in my life.
How hollow it is
to grow together
only to grow apart.
from a million losses,
a continual death,
a punch to the gut
watching them go.
Like there is a bruise eternally at rest upon my heart
where the words I never said to them will decay.
I live in rot.
I live in the remains of my own fear.
for what can I say to those shades that pass before me,
the strong and brilliant minds that I thought would never leave.
What do I have now
silence and sorrow?
I called my father yesterday,
he was driving again.
Driving between worlds
as I was lost in my own.
I miss him,
and always will be
my guiding light.
I thought of them today, my brothers
if they ever think of when we were younger
and drunk on the notion of being invincible,
climbing and running and always arguing.
How sweet the melody of yelling seems to me now
when I sit,
alone in the agony of words extinguished once again.
because my heart cannot form the syllables and sounds
to say what each nerve in my body is weeping for.
I will lose you to,
I always lose the things I love.
And, after all,
I ought to have expected it,
These emblems of my life.