@slamjamjordan hi yes sorry I’m just. it is 3 am and your tags have been living rent free in my head for six hours
and when it pulls away it’s taken everything with it
all your unfinished sketches and stories
every idea you had, every promise you made. every plan, every dream
and the feel of your skin and the sound of your laugh
Tomorrow a package will be delivered with your name on it
and your friend will fine your hair on their couch
another will stop by to return a sweater that still smells like you
death reaches down your throat and takes your love away
and it tastes like the puddles on the cement behind the school
like the battery you licked at your grandparents house. like cigarette smoke, like the seatbelt strap, like your fathers cologne, like aspirin
death kisses, yes, with tongue
if that brings you comfort I will swear it
by the shoe you lost when you were ten
that someone found who will not know you are gone
and by the stuffed animal you never named
and by the unused shampoo in the bottle your roommate will not have the heart to throw out
and I will swear it by your handwriting on a list your mother with find in two years
that you left by accident in her car
and she will think of you every time she buys laundry detergent, oranges, hot sauce
the way you think of death every time you see a body of water
the way you ask for a promise
because hey, even if it’s death, at least someone is kissing you
