I’ve stopped

I’ve stopped picking up my pen as often
you told me it was smart
to pause it on a high note
it feels like forever though.

My mouth hasn’t been at a mic
with excitement.

You said to create everything
and settle for nothing
that I mean something to you.
But who am I
when it all means everything
and nothing at the same time?
That it’s always
and never.

How I told you I’d write you a poem one day
for the art that you left me.
And how human of me
to wait until you couldn’t hear these words.
But they are as much mine
as they are yours.

Could it be that it may have only happened this way
me digging through journals
flipping pages
for your exit?

And every motion of the pen
seems like it’s not enough.
Like how laughter can’t be captured
in consonants or vowels
it takes breath and movement
but you are only still now.

I wonder if I should give this poem a happy ending
pretend there are lessons in passing
high hopes for the rest of us
but there is only grief in tear stained pages.

I always remembered that scribbled page in my notebook
for that poem I never wrote.
I'l remember it now for the poem you never heard.

Me, headphones in,
trying to cancel out street noise
you saying how you thought of me
as you played your music low.
Us laughing at my inability to handle loud sounds
you punching me for hiding a glove
no one cares where it rests now.
Sleep easy
royal friend
I hope you find truth in the ground.