• Remember remember
    When you carried me to bed that first time?
    I was too scared to check behind the curtains or shut off the lights
    so you held me through your first, but not last, sleepless night
    in years.
    You calmed me when I shook, soothed me when I cried.

    You taught me trust that night.


    Oh, I remember remember
    how you picked me up in second grade and wouldn’t let me be pushed back
    down, even though it cost you
    Again.
    “It was only a loose tooth. Shh, don’t cry.”
    You bled all over your new white shoes with the Scooby-Doo laces
    and you got a splinter and a bruise on your thin thigh
    but you refused to cry.


    And yeah, I remember remember
    when I realized you’d realized I wasn’t the same.
    How your eyes had never been more green
    Than when you took that first drink and
    took off your jeans.
    How your ribs were like glass, your spine a bent pebble path
    and the way you lost all your shoulder-breaking stiffness
    as you jumped into the lake for a midnight dip.
    We were beautiful that night.


    And I still look back on when you told me you loved me
    and you knew I loved you.
    But we were best friends and never wanted to grow up
    never wanted to change.
    What can you do?

    So sometimes, when I’m crying and can’t sleep
    because I still refuse to dream,
    I can’t help but remember remember
    every sharp angle of your too-thin frame
    and the light that used to be your dull eyes
    and when your mother calls with bad news
    “he’s in the hospital again”
    “he’s OD’d again”
    “he’s sliced them again”
    and you’re in Florida and I’m in Michigan and there is nothing to do
    I remember remember your sweet, sweet smile
    and the cut of your long hair
    (and just try to forget about toxic suicide fumes)

    God, I miss you.