18

years I’ve spent living without you. Dreams where you are present are irrelevant and you are no longer someone I miss...wanting. I spent 

17

days sipping grief like water at the loss of a brother you never gave me the chance to know and at my 

16th 

birthday, it showed. Tears curled with hot chocolate steam, the liquid burning the knots of anger and depression and I let this weak, light-weighted heat consume my need to be strong. My mother watched me cry for 

15

minutes long. When I stopped she said “that’s it?”

14

seconds go by, and I looked at her and wondered if the hurt of this bittersweet loss was something I hid. Was the hot cocoa supposed to burn more than it did?

13

years old I slurped polar pop drinks as cold as the smiles I faked unaffected by the miles I’ve walked that wasn’t with her. 

 

Every skin cell severed that I covered, they tried to blame you for the scars I drew even though I begged a mother to want me knowing she didn’t want to and I still wasted 10 minutes at

12

years old listening to a crash course about every unknown family memory that I was supposed to know. Who knew at

11

years old I was at fault for HER no-show.

10

minutes to go, soon I will go home in dark nights under street lights. Polar Pop ice numbing pain I’ve felt inside since 

9

years old but I forgot you existed and at 

8

years old I figured out this is how it was supposed to be. Your no-show, and my unknown memories. But you still filled my dreams with hopes that you would come back to me. And Of course at 

7

years old I didn’t know that you were missing and at 

6 

years old I didn’t know I had to find you but at 

5

years old I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to know you. But I won’t tell anyone of the 

4

minutes I spent at 

3

years old wondering why everyone was so....snowy.

2

times lighter than me with only 

1

minute to fast forward to 

18

Polar pop ice numbing like daydreams, but the hot chocolate still burns like the nightmare needs to. I miss you, but I don’t miss wanting you.