i wish i had something to say, a poetic moment to capture and place on paper film, the pen my camera.
but i don’t.
i can say i know he’s gone, i can feel him faded.
the night after he died, i swore i heard his footsteps. they woke me up. maybe it took him that long to make his way back from the desert, to find the bathed stoop that i said would always welcome him. maybe i dreamed it and woke myself up, hoping the sound was real: a thirsty traveler made a fool by a sand born mirage. his heels. just his heels. the little scuff here, the urgency there. a man who was never uninvited.
it’s still a young wound, his body barely buried. my stomach constantly churning. an element of my forever is gone.
i am less without you and everyone who knows me can feel it.
February 11th, 2008