I think I’m what some would call desperate,
desperately craving your presence.
Or what some would call a mad woman
who talks to herself and pretends it’s you.
But if you are here,
listening through the hollow walls,
or through the pumping of my heart;
that I miss you dearly, even though we never met.
Never locked eyes or laughed over coffee.
But then come to think of it, I like to believe you live in my brother’s eyes.
That when you’re laughing, they fall into a rich ocean blue.
Sometimes I see you in the smiles of strangers on the subway.
Always the faces showing teeth. That’s the way I like to see you.
I remember them saying we love you so so very much
and I laughed to show them I loved them too.
And I swore it was you that laughed and not me.
There is always a piece of you in each step I take.
In every person with a tear under their eye.
In every hand that holds a guitar.
Everyone who is deeply sad and does not know why.
Everyone who smiles at the face of loneliness.
Anyone who finds peace in an empty room.
Anyone who would save anyone before themselves.
Anyone who will not ask to be saved,
I do everything I can to save them.