In 8th grade English
We mainly focused on poetry.
So many different kinds
Haikus, quatrains, slam poems.
I excelled at that class
Writing always came easy to me
And I did it often.
You never could quite get the hang of it though.
Words didn't come to you easy,
You struggled and stumbled,
Never finding your footing.
I suppose it shouldn't have come as a surprise then
When you asked for my help.
We had to write a love poem,
And I never felt the kind of love we had to write about,
But you had.
And so you asked me to help you.
We sat together and told me everything
How she made you feel
How you loved her smile
Her laugh
Everything.
And I wrote a poem for you
You loved it
You loved how I could write something
So good
So real
From another persons feelings.
And so you took it,
Made a few changes,
So you could call it your own.
The teacher read it
And she loved it too.
She asked if you had written that all by yourself,
And you said yes.
I was hurt.
It was my poem,
And you made it off like it was yours.
I wanted both our names on the paper,
But you only wrote yours.
You said you had changed it
So it wasn't mine anymore.
I said you had only changed two words,
It was ours.
Looking back,
I should have let you keep the poem,
Without a fuss.
I should have let you draw on my hoodie in math class,
Without complaining,
The marks always came off anyway.
I should have let you call me weird names that you never actually meant,
And tell me your stupid jokes that were actually funny.
I should've texted you more once we got to high school.
Maybe then you'd still be here.
Maybe then
I would have you,
One of my first real friends,
Instead of just memories of simpler times.
Memories
That come and go,
Your smile,
Your laugh,
Your brilliant blue eyes,
Your voice.
It's hard for me to remember
So many things.
Like
Your favorite color,
Why you like Mexican Candy,
The kind you always made me try
Even though I hated it.
I can't remember
Such simple things
And there have been
So
Many
Times
I wanted to ask you something
But you're not here anymore.
Instead,
You're sitting 6 feet deep in a cemetery somewhere,
And it's been almost a year,
But it still hurts,
And I still ache,
Like it happened yesterday.
I miss you everyday
And I wonder
Why I never reached out to you,
Like I should have.
Maybe then you wouldn't have done it.
So now I'm filled with all these
What if's,
And I would trade almost anything
To have you here again.
To see
Your smile,
Your laugh,
Your brilliant blue eyes.
I would give you that poem,
And anything else I wrote,
If you could only come back.
But you can't.
And I'm sorry.
And I love you.
And I miss you.
Author's Note
I know it's been awhile since I posted. I'm sorry about that. I don't write poetry much anymore, but I might try to start again.
Most of the other poems published here were written for class assignments, and so didn't have much personal meaning to me. But this one is different. I hadn't written a poem in almost three years when I sat down and wrote this. This is very personal to me, and I felt that I had to share it, so then maybe I could start to feel better about what happened. I hope that's the case.
This one's for you Erik. I love and miss you everyday.
