What the water took

In the early morning hours

where the sky is still dark and 

my house lays quiet I 

hear snippets of your voice. Sounds

like running water. Waves

colliding with cement pillars through 

radio static. I cannot piece them 

together. 

They are two large forces 

unapologetically existing

just existing too close. 

The same way your body existed 

a little too close to a bridge 

and water.

In reality I am not sure if the bridge 

is over a lake

or part of an ocean. 

I do not know where your soul 

left your body I just know that you

are not alive anymore.

Your voice does not exist outside of my memory. 

My best friend told me that memories are different every time we recall them.

Chris, did I once know more about you than what I remember?

Did I lose you in the water too?

I want the water to give back what it stole from me. 

She does not love you as much as I do.