I thought I was coming back but forced to stay away.
We were separated by several hundred miles in an instant.
Remembering now. Those afternoons as adults at an empty playground discussing world events, politics, like we could really change it.
Talking trash about sycophants, lost in silliness, one comment building off the other in our absurd humor till candlewick—
cut short.
How did we grow up in the same house
but it took moving us simultaneously moving out
to get to laughing like this.
For absence to sting. To miss.
To understand like no other.
To find a friend in a brother.
YOU ARE READING
Every Last Drop
Poetryfor hard times. for the lonely late nights. and the tears we cry. every last drop. * all rights reserved