I see you through rose-coloured glasses

For Jake

I met you in the latter years of middle school. Everyone called you by your last name and it pissed you off that I would call you Jacob.

Then one day I wore a shirt with The Rolling Stones logo and we were fast friends.

You are always enthusiastic with smiles and laughter. You're sarcastic and say stupid things. You tease me to make me mad and yet, you never cease to make me happy.

You're there for the tightest slightly-more-than-a-friend hugs and all the times I feel alone.

I wish I could play guitar as well as you. I remember you tried to teach me to be better than I am now but, it always ended in frustration and a chocolate bar.

And when you speak to me, your voice is calm and smooth and clean. I'd kiss the column of your throat because it made you a little more real. A little more vulnerable. A little more human.

I like it when you sing.

While I played with your hair, you'd run your calloused fingertips over my hipbones and hum classic rock. Where ever you touched your warmth followed.

And since you've moved on I haven't been able to shake the fantom warmth I still feel when we catch eyes.

I miss the sound of your steady heart against my ear and the way your eyes used to get a little brighter when I laughed.

They've gone dark.