Thief
Why did god have to be a thief?
I can’t take all this grief
Feels like it was yesterday when god took a piece of me
Took big bro away
I still hear the news of him passing in my mind still, I can hear that conversation replay in my head
But I still don’t remember the convo we had on your last day
The bro’s was on the phone as usual
Talking shit, lighting blunts and living life
I can feel the emotions coming back as I type
It’s been two years, and it still doesn’t feel real
Shit, feel like we haven’t talked in a minute
Like you just been to yourself handling business
This grief be eating at me
Can barely sleep at night
I still remember seeing you that one last time
We were chilling smoking blunts, man What a time
I was supposed to see you at your funeral, but I couldn’t bare to remember you in no fuckin’ coffin
You were the one I would call if shit was starting
You were the one signing me up to do this spoken word shit
You were the one feeding me insights on how to move my art
If I had to go down a list of your lessons,
I wouldn’t know where to start
Just know you were a fuckin blessing
And I’m still mad you resting
Sometimes I just want to talk to you
I hear your voice in my head all the time
Sometimes it brings tears
Sometimes it brings joy
I just wish I could hear your voice outside my ears
I still have the memories to enjoy
No matter what, the gang will always be boys
You will always be with us
I love and miss you bruh
Sincerely, Billy
About the Creator
K. Exum
Blogger, Poet, and Author from Landover, Maryland. Author of The Story Of Charles Levi on Amazon. Multiple spoken word singles and a project on streaming platforms. Check out my blog www.piecesofk.blog Follow my IG & X @thtstonedpoet
Spectating
I can't imagine dying like this, in a place like this; on a cold, dirty pavement with rush hour traffic screaming by and a crowd looking on while paramedics struggle to find space to move. Who could? Deep down we all think there should be a reason, a moment of clarity... or a family presence, at least. For this man, this boy, the rail thin woman lighting a cigarette in a faux fur jacket will have to do - she's been here since the start, her eyes tracking the movement of my shoulders as we fight to keep him on the right side of the line.
By S. A. Crawford7 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
Awww sorry for your loss. Grief is hard and everyone goes through it. At least we have great memories to hold on to.