1, 196 miles & 19 hours away

1

     It's forgetting the name of the face you have come in contact with. Calling a verb in intense reactions to the heights of those you replace as your own. Maybe I'm stuck in a verse to a moment I recall. Often as if I'm typing in a familiar website. The one I come acclaimed to in time of desperate moments to fill a need of nothing that exists of little concern.

     Facebook.

     The site pops up. Reminding myself I need to bookmark it for future references. My friend is stuck it seems. Among the holes of her entirety since the messages are quite constant from her. I'm posting less and less, but I hardly notice. 

     My life is of little consideration to the people I amount to. I hesitate at the site of a photo of some one that has grown since the last time I last saw them. A familiar face sticking to shields so far in variety I feel the weight hover over me.

     It scares me to think that sometimes I'm forgetting what she looks like. This is the part someone may ask, "Who are you talking about?"

     I'm talking about Emily. Which is the collections of these poems. The collections of these memories brainstormed in the idea of a life that has lived a year without her. The letters of a familiar face. This is my best friend. My other half. The more of my sister. The her that has been there since my 7 year old self could see visions of it. In that, these are just the memories of her.