I always thought he would be here forever
His low laugh, his awful clothes, young balding hair. The sigh from across the wall.
The awful CDs in his car
He was always so much funnier than I was
So genuine in a way most of us will never be.

We’re linked by the scorn of home.
By the pressure on our shoulders from unstable people
By the love of music
By the same face, same blood, same last name

I can’t stop thinking about the moments we had
They didn’t happen often.
The rest of the world was out of earshot
And we could talk about anything and everything
Bad choices and future dreams
Things we didn’t want anyone else to hear.
Always late at night, always one of us sacrificing precious time for the other.

And that’s what love feels like to me.
To sit on the floor aching tired just to hear what someone has to say.
He loves me and we never even had to say it.

What am I going to do with him gone?
Who will sit on the floor with me while everyone else is asleep?