may the twenty-first

it's the twenty-first of may, twenty-thirteen. i am thinking of you. again. i often have to stop myself from asking which brother he's talking about, especially when he keeps bringing up the times before you left. i want to talk about you, but he's so indifferent that i can't bring myself to bother him. it's hard to have a conversation anymore when thoughts of you hang in the air between us, tangible like silk and harder to grasp. i know he doesn't see you splitting the air with your memory but i do, and it stings like hot iron.

i wish i could wash you from my my skin and veins, if only for a brief time, but that would be like trying to stop the sea from beating the shore.

it's going to storm again today, like it has every summer you've been gone. i can feel the way the air is charging, building up to that perfect peak of energy before the release. it reminds me of you on the simplest of levels; a bit unpredictable and grey, but always worth it. you rolled in one day like a summer storm and then out like the fourth of july. snuffed. a crack and a bang, and you were done. no fizzle, or sputter. in hind sight i should have taken everything you gave me, because if i had known what was coming, i would have asked for so much more.