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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Four years Nicky

Submitted: October 29, 2010

A A A | A A A

Submitted: October 29, 2010



How can it be four years?
I cannot even describe how much I need you here
with me lately.

How can I be sixteen?
You should have been able to see me on my birthday,
I want my birthday beats.

How can you be nineteen, almost twenty?
You never got to graduate,
I never got to say happy birthday.

I miss the simple things,
the sound of your voice when your yelling at me for whatever reason,
the sound of it when we're joking around,
and when you are preparing to go and beat someone up for me.

Mum hates the silence.
She never used to,
I think that was because there never used to be any with you here.

We always managed to make some noise.
I miss that,
music blaring, yelling and laughter.

I wish I remembered more.
Your laughter,
Your voice.

I hate that I cannot remember.
I feel like I'm letting you down,
which I know is silly.

Life has been difficult without you.
I have become a stronger person,
but why does the price have to be so big?

I have gotten used to people avoiding your topic.
My friends will always listen if I need them,
but sometimes its hard to act for help and to come out of my shell.

I talked to a girl who lost her mother over the summer to cancer.
I explained about today,
and about you.

I hate the fact that I will be graduating without you here.
It isn't fare,
it should not have to be like this.

People ask me if I belive in god.
I do,
but I still can't wrap my head around him taking him back to heaven.

I pray but I don't go to church.
I don't know if I belive that you were finished your job,
your purpose in life.

I'm not even sure what else to write.
I am suspended in time when I think about you,
when I let my true emotions show.

Its very simple.
I need you here to help me though as my big brother,
and I miss you with all of my heart and soul.

I refuse to belive that it is goodbye forever.
So adios amigos for now,
but I plan on seeing you after I am done.

© Copyright 2017 Joy Evans. All rights reserved.

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