It kind of hurts knowing
that I’ll never see your face again.
knowing I’ll never get to hug you again,
never being able to talk to you.

I asked myself the other day,
“I wonder what her favorite music is,
I’ll have to ask her.”
And I realized that I can’t.

I wanted to talk to you the other day,
ask about your life and other things.
I never really appreciated it until you
were gone.

Please,
tell me the story of that dog you picked up at a bar.
Tell me about that Halloween
where you turned my dad green.
Tell me about when I was little.
Tell me anything,
anything at all.

I want you to call me on my birthday
relentlessly singing to me.
I want to drive around with you
and hear about your day.

They say that when someone dies,
you only miss what they did, or gave to you.
I don’t think that’s true,
because I miss all of you.

It really hasn’t set in yet.
Because I don’t like to delete old texts,
I still have the last conversation that we had.

It hurts that you’re gone,
because the impact you had on everyone left
such a big mark,
You’ll be the scar that I’ll always love,
and never forget.