I can still hear your drunken rants

and the way you made my brother laugh.

I still see the way you believe what you say

and say what you mean.

You always showed up

and not just to be seen.

You brought the room together;

The stitch.

The needle.

The seam.

I know I’ll wake up again tomorrow

wishing this was just a dream.

I don’t want to feel this.

I won’t.

Or I can’t.

I know you’re not here but

I can still hear your drunken rants.