I use to dream and sing about the man that I once knew,

or how my favorite color was something he never knew.

Like how found warmth in the solstice, or how I set back and read text messages where he did me the coldest.

I use to dream about the man who put me on his shoulders

while we dip off in the mountains and catch fish on the boulders.

I never thought my words would relieve you.

I never thought that you love me, but in a stupid sense I almost believed you.

I never thought that losing you would bring me and her closer,

and you wouldn’t live to see my face immortal-ed on the poster.

I couldn’t believe you hurt me the worst way, or for the simple fact when I unlock my phone I remember your birthday.

Or how about the 10th of August-yep minus the pauses when I blew out my candles and my wish was that you would call us.

you never lived to see when the peace came,

as I reframe, I guess my name on your arm was an unbearable ink stain-huh?

It’s

funny how I major english, but you’re left with the sentence.

You were subject to the prejudice, a predicate instance.

Like you’re here and you’ll be gone in an instant be consistent;

I write because I loved you the most, now it’s resentment.

Wouldn’t believe the time that you had showed up in my class and told me to get the lotion so that I reduce the ash.

Slapped me the five and i’m like five more minutes, I know i’m in the middle of class but let me finish this sentence.

 

When I saw you I had hopped out my seat and I ran to you.

Couldn’t believe my eyes would deceive and expand to you.

You owned my heart and you was the man, i’m brand to you, and I speak now knowing that i’ll be a man to you.

 

My only wish is that I latch you, you hold me across your tattoos, and when I go to kiss you- your beard kisses me back too.

I hate the fact that i’m 16 without you.

I hate the fact that when I got ready for prom that it was nothing without you.

I hate the fact there’s no unity like when I entered puberty; I was going through some things and neglect from you was new to me.

I hate the fact you didn’t teach me to shave.

I hate the fact I had to find out on my own what’s the meaning of brave.

I hate the fact here that this love wasn’t saved.

And normally I don’t write to you,because missing you is what makes me afraid.

Being alone I autodidact the way of the trade.

You provide light that cast down rays, still no shade.

I hope that at the end of this you feel no shame; i’m commending you for neglect it may seem so strange.

But I doubt you.
I had to figure it out too.

In the next life i’ll be twice as bold ready for round two.