poetry

empty eyes

i stared into your eyes, they were closed

but that didn't matter. your eyes were sunken in,

along with your hands on your chest.

i hated looking at you but i couldn't look away

i knew that who i was looking at was you, but i couldn't believe it.

i haven't ever seen you without a smile on your face or hearing your jolly laugh;

i was still expecting to hear it. i sat waiting and staring and silently pleading with myself 

why did you leave without saying goodbye?

i hope my note was good enough 

i hope my tears showed you how much i loved you 

how much i love you 

i miss you, pop-pop.

the den

i sat on the thick green carpet talking into the fan that made my voice sound weird.

the room just smelled like they did, little did i know that that smell was just tons and tons of mothballs. 

i kept clicking the buttons on the fan as it got faster and slower depending on which button i decided to press.

i got bored of that quickly. 

so, i moved over to the dark oak cabinet that made an awesome clicking sound when it opened and closed. 

(now, that cabinet is in my room, and it still has that old wood smell that it had back then.)

once again, i got bored. 

i turned around and grabbed that gray remote and turned on that big box tv that i always put my hand on when nothing was playing.

(my hand would always leave a condensation mark. i forget what it was like to have hands that small.)