I miss your eyes.

the way they crinkle up like that when you smile. 

Now when I see you your smile

looks almost sad. 

You look tired. 

 

I miss the garden. 

Remember every summer when we'd

go out there and pick cherry tomatoes

and you said if there were bugs

in them, they would just add protein. 

Now that garden is gone

cause mom wanted a patio. 

 

I miss the bus. 

Every day after school, you'd walk 

the dog down to the bus stop and

say hi to Andy. 

I stopped riding the bus after eighth grade. 

You told me once that you 

sometimes watch it drive by after 3:00

and think

the kids'll be home soon. 

Do you ever catch yourself thinking that now?

 

I miss your hugs. 

My whole rinçage aches for one. 

A big bear hug that 

made me feel as though I 

would always be safe. 

No matter how far I ventured. 

 

I ventured pretty damn far. 

Now im sitting here alone, thinking

about all the things we used to do together. 

All the places we'd go. 

I remember you. 

I miss you. 

I love you.