I might have forgotten

I think about you often.

I think about

how your laugh sounded,

especially that one time in the car

on the windy road

with your bong in my lap.

I think about

how your chest felt,

especially those times when

I’d come home after a long semester

and see you again.

I think about

how your smile shone,

especially that day–before

you left for the trip–

the last time I saw you.

I think about you often, but

I’m afraid I’ve lost bits of you

in the day-to-day

in the last three years

of growing up without you.

I’m so sorry for all I’ve forgotten–

not that it’s much–

just the sound of your voice after middle school

just the exact placement of your mole

just the specifics of the two-hour phone conversation freshman year.

But don’t worry–

I still think about you often.