I get lost memories since you gone, brother. I get memories I didn’t know I have lost.
I run, listen to your music. Looking for the alley streets, the empty ones, where there is no one to see my tears. Then I think – screw you, world! I am crying and I don’t care what you think of me, of my ghost look, of my loud gasps or whatever you see in me.
I run and run and hear your voice, see your life in a way I never knew I can, remember things I never knew I would remember.
Like that time we sat in the kitchen, with white papers and new crayons. You were about three years old. Joel and me were a bit older, making “a team” against you, the little one. Laughing at every move of yours. God, you wanted to be so much like us, you wanted to join us in the kitchen and we didn’t let you. Sent you away. You were crying , don’t understand why we don’t want you. How dare we. Mom got into the kitchen and gave us “the look”. We had to make a place for you. You got a paper. You got a crayon. You held it seriously, consecrated in your paper, tipped your head to the side and filled slowly the paper with color. Your mouth was open and your tongue popped out, with a big, big wide open eyes, deep innocent look, so dame serious. And, we laughed. Joel and I, we giggled on purpose and whisper it at loud to annoy you, ha!
I run faster. I see things I wish I could remember better. Deeper.
Like that birthday you waited for me in the central station, ready to celebrate. I see you stand there, and here, in the empty street, and I run my mind to you before my feet can do, I run into your waiting image, I feel the pain of being in-between memory and reality, the torture of seeing you merging into the street and then floating again in every blink, tear, breath. Going backwards instead of standing still.
It hurts, so much!!!
I run and I am dying from inside, getting lost in a jungle of memories. I am twitching for moments, getting frozen for hours.
I miss you like I never knew I will.