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you float in and out of our lives like a cloud of cigarette smoke, but the smell of you forever remains heavy in our clothes and our hair and our home. we remember you as the tight grip on the back our necks, the wrestling matches in the backyard, and all the bright happiness and despair that comes along with that - the sting of getting slammed into the wet grass. the way you sit up in bed and clutch your chest when you realize you forgot how it feels to be slammed into wet grass and to laugh and laugh and laugh. i know we never said goodbye, but brother, do you think we'll ever meet again?

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