When The World Had You

when the world had you || 7

nothing is the same

now that death has taken you away.

everything i do reminds me of you;

i drink my coffee knowing that you

were sickened by it.

the cigarette ashes make me

recall your lectures and how you would

hide my lighter to make me stop.

i can't wear my favorite shirt because

you brought it for me;

and i wore it that night at the train tracks.

every tiny thing in the

town has memories of

you and me.

i made an attempt to

draw and paint a portrait of you.

But it was anything but accurate.

i can't remember if

you had long thick eyelashes

or if your lower lip

was larger than your

upper lip

your eyes weren't the

same proportion as

each other

and i always seem to

add a cherry red blood

on your face.

i tried to make a

replica of you, but you can't

recreate a masterpiece.

you were always

the artistic one

out of us.

so i know that if you made

an attempt to remake a masterpiece,

your one would be beyond beautifier than the original.

i went to the same café

you went to every

saturday to study.

i walked you there,

and watched you sit down on the table

in the corner of the room.

i watched you order

the same drink you did every time,

an ice lemon tea

you never let me sit with you,

you told me to go and

do what i fancied.

and so i would walk away,

as you flipped open your

math textbook.

i went to the same café today,

and went to sit where you always sat.

but the table was already taken by a boy.

he was studying as well,

but he was doing French.

he sat across from where you sat.

he drank an ice lemon tea,

just like you.

but he didn't enjoy the beverage like you did.

i left the café,

knowing that the town

was taking over your spots.

trying to cover up

the fact that

you were here

but i will remember,

i always will, for the world keeps

reminding me of you every minute