On summer nights

you’d call me home,

we spent those evenings

swinging on the deck

sheltered under the porch,

listening to the rain,

timeless they seemed,

as childhood is.

A drizzle tonight

reminiscent of then,

the mist settles in,

the rain reminds me of you,

long after you’re gone,

summer feels just like it did,

though my childhood ended

with your departure,

memories of you

bring me back.

You're gone but your on my mind.

You passed long ago but you're still haunting my thoughts.

Your six feet under but I can still feel your presence.

You'v been gone for so long and yet,

I still catch whiffs of the colone you once wore,

there is still a shape of you in the matress of your side of the bed,

there's still a whole in my heart where you once were.

You're gone but you're on my mind and I wish you were'nt because everytime you cross my thoughts I am brought back to the night you died and I am filled with all the dread and grief in the world.

A glass of wine, jazz pouring through the shitty speakers of the only stereo you could afford, the candle light the only illumination. You were the only person who existed in the whole world. Watching shadows dance across the room like a long lost lovers hands dancing across her body. She sighed and took another sip of the wine as Ella’s voice crooned through the speakers.

She didn’t belong here. He had brought her here. It was their love that had brought her to this place. She was of a different world, a different time.

Everyday she made the commute to work on the crowded trolly. Everyday she left feeling slightly less sure of her authenticity. She looked around the trolly, everyone looked right through her. She went to work, she spent the day talking, then left.

On Sunday, she tested her voice to make sure it still worked. To see if she was still alive. But the darkness always came, and with a sigh she closed her eyes succumbing to the ritual death of sleep.

Your smile,

although a little slanted,

shows your dimples,

and lingers on the mirror.

Your books,

filled with highlights,

and underlines,

takes refuge on the coffee table.

Your coffee mug,

holds the stain of your lips,

lucious and full,

holding my heart captive.

Your lingering shadow,

never seems to fade,

as it follows my every move,

intending to be my unwilling guest.

You’re gone but you’re on my mind

“Of cloudless climes and starry skies”

Lord Byron on repeat in this heady

classroom, an English lecture ready

to both challenge me and keep my

flow of knowledge steady

Shakespeare, Keats, you name it

You were in all those classes

You knew all the answers

I could never read Anna Karenina

in Russian, but you had the gumption

I remember reviewing White Teeth

by Zadie Smith in a small group setting

I was late, our TA smiled and I

sat down, unaware of anything

until your voice spoke the literature like a melody

We were reading Heart of Darkness

and when you analysed

the theme of colonization

I was inspired by your interpretation

the meat of English literature

You’re gone but you’re on my mind

when I re-read Byron

“and all that’s best of dark and bright”

I remembered your insight

I hope you are doing alright