drown.

I sometimes remember how I once was the loudest person in the room. But thinking of what went wrong for me after your death feels wrong.

Linked through blood and bonded through time, the loss of you is a rock sinking through my stomach. But it never stops. There is no bottom, just as there is no reprieve from the wreckage gouging ravines into my foundation, leaving only splinters behind. You, the roots and anchors of my soul, are now nothing but a possibility in another world. What a gutting waste of who you were supposed to be.

You were better in every way, even though we looked the same. You were the deserving one. It should have been me.

And now I have to remember you for longer than I knew you.