hannah x two

she claimed to be an artist,

just one that would never be seen.

"my beautiful being"

i remember repeating,

"you are more marvelous than us all,

more talented than the lot combined"

it wasn't until two weeks later when i found her,

lying there on the bathroom floor,

that i even began to understand her seemingly silent plea.

now,

she's crimson red carvings, on an alabaster canvas,

set out to sea.

- h.m.s

every love song, every sad poem, every sign, every sunset is you.

when i got the call, you had already been long gone.

the great fall, my own personal hell, being the last to know.

that's what i get for trying to escape, with some plastic bong.

remembering you is easy, your existence was a show,

you are still the main character, that can never change.

loving you is easier now, as your daughters grow,

it will be more difficult when we become deranged,

luckily, there are pieces of you everywhere,

from Arkansas to Wahiawa.

scrap books of photos, polaroid's of your smile as our personal logo,

videos on repeat of your infectious, bubbling laugh.

it never gets easier though,

i am bathing in my own salt water bath, here pooling on my lap,

being flooded by memories of you,

colliding in salt water as we sometimes would do.

or when you stayed with me a full week when i was as sick as a dog,

just making yourself at home, downstairs, you never got bored,

and you did it so we wouldn't miss any time through the fog.

you'd scream from my couch what channel was playing spice world,

or redo my myspace, to quote "you need more pictures of us"

that was just you, radiant and bold.

i love you,

no surprise that missing you is getting old.

- h.c.i