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
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.