Forgotten your voice, but not your shine,
Long since passed, the memory is mine.
Simply felt lost, twelve of these years,
Closer to your age, I gain fears.
Father had lost, for his heart felt poor,
When love came next, we needed no more.
Your son is ideal, my brother I fessed,
May not have you, but we are blessed.
Near we are not, and may fight loud,
Men we are now, hope you find proud.
Thirty-six you should be, in a way you are,
Look at the start, I realized how far.
I rarely speak of you, little may know,
That one of my mothers, was taken long ago.
~me
I don't know why I'm writing on here. Maybe you're reading it.
I can't remember your voice. And I'm just terrified to watch the videos of you because I'm afraid what I imagine it to sound like is nothing like it actually was. All the time now I need to look at your pictures to remember your face. I visited your grave a couple months ago for the first time since the funeral. But I knew you weren't there. I talk to you everyday. And most of the time I didn't follow your advice, then I fucked up and I could feel you saying I told you bitch. You can't tell how much I was joking in that last sentence. I'm a year away from your age and I'm scared. You've become my gut feeling recently. But things are just so crazy I hope I'm just on the road to being the son you're proud of. The best parts of me are all because of you. I miss you everyday, I wish you could've seen me graduate. I wish you could be here. Erik is as close to you as I'll ever get and he's my best friend. I love you. You didn't give birth to me, but you'll always be my mother.