i'm wearing the sweater you were wearing the morning i was born. it's too big, sure, and i feel sort of silly...but i like it, the way i am enveloped in this illusion of home.

weren't you so excited, holding me in your arms for the first time, the first of what you thought would be many that never came to be...

i want to know what happened to that. what happened between those pictures i've seen of you, cradling me in your arms, until this moment. this sweater smells like home, but it does not smell like you. maybe it would if you were still a part of home. it doesn't even smell like my house here - but it smells like home, like "ah," like comfort. and where are you?

i want you to come see me sing, because you haven't. because you haven't seen anything. and i know that you're hours away, but you're years away. years away, a lifetime away. you missed so many things that most would consider so important...and you can't make that up. you complain that i do not make time for you, but have you made time for me, sir? i don't know. maybe you tried. i can't tell.

you've seperated into an idea and a person. there is the you that is you, and the you that i have imagined you to be. if only they could be combined, and i could be at peace with everything that has happened. but as long as i own this sweater, as long as i wear it when i get cold, there will be no peace for me.

i smell like home but i can't find it.

please come to see me sing.


Jay-Bizzle said...

That last paragraph is something I deal with a lot.

S. Kahlon said...

I love you so much. And I'm so sorry he's... Not who he should be. But I am always here for you. ALWAYS.