For Michael
You were the “p” in pterodactyl:
Silent, but important
You set things into your own stride
I couldn’t help but stare and notice you oddity
You rebellious
Unique
So silent yet so prominent thing
You stuck yourself in the beginning of conversations
Seen by all
Heard by none
But I heard your silence
The same way I hear it now
The same way I only hear silence now when I call your name.
That’s not what you want to be remembered as
You Are the ink stain on my rug I’ll never get cleaned
You Are the unlocked doors of my estate
You are the long train ride home when I never had one
This poem is about:
Me