Even as a young boy who shouldn’t understand loss you did,
wrapping your arms around me as I slumped

Onto the floor, many years later, where our limbs once fit with room
to spare, you made space, saw something I had hidden and gave it back

My attempts to reciprocate feel false, like my bright pink tee glowing
in a sea of black, bodies crashing to the hardwood below, your shirt

A tanktop featuring a truckers hat, sweaty as you shred
our ears, our inhibitions, the room, I’m constantly in awe

That you continue to stay under the same roof with a thief, a liar, a junkie,
someone taking a hatchet to you is beyond my understanding and I say as much

During an intervention, where our father tags along for moral support
in the backseat, barely hearing the words I shout over the pummeling rain

I’m awash in regret, knowing I fucked up, that I failed you,
that I couldn’t reach you through my condescension and desperation

So when you find what I have hidden, I hope that you see me, hear me
through all the static, and understand what I’m really trying to say

You were always the best of us.