Jessica said 9 years, 10 months ago:

You can find this poem in a slightly different version at the Golden Walkman Magazine. :)

“I Taught You How to Stretch”

I taught you how to stretch
so you could get your breathing
under control. I showed you
how to slowly slide your legs
from the crisscrossed position
your face was always in, and place
them out in front of you, creating
a tranquil sanctuary if only
for a minute. You taught me
how to sleep; you said you
couldn’t get to bed until I was
“fast asleep,” the moon as distant
as the horizon of my death. And you
taught me that life is awful
minus the chocolates, Tuesday night
TV, and sometimes babies. But what
you taught me the most was
that your house was always supposed
to be where you feel safe,
like a cat curled up
with a book.

And when my uncle
told me to hug you one
more time, the night I left Florida,
the last night I ever saw you,
(When you told me I was your
“favorite person in the whole world”)
I obliged, thanking him silently in my mind
and vowing to never get
too angry with him again, like
the time he was so high he refused
to call you a cab to get back from
the airport that night

Godiva chocolates were mentioned
on the phone, and I don’t remember
if you talked with Ben or Alex or not,
but I know you met Jaiden and that means
a lot, even if you didn’t know it, telling us we
looked “… pretty,” smiling because you loved me,
Jaiden in her orange tux
for her junior prom.
I dated them all
(genderqueer male, genderqueer transmale, genderqueer female)
but you only knew
about the current boyfriend, Ben.
You didn’t like
bisexuals.

That night
I taught you how to stretch,
slowly placing your legs out in front
of you, slowly sleeping forever,
not waking until 5am
on the dot when I would pat your back
and you cried out for your mother then
and later when you were really dying.
Did you know you were dying then,
when I pounded your back, hoping you’d
be okay, knowing you’d be okay, the days
and nights of that spring break when uncle
Billy died like you did? That was the only
week we both didn’t sleep until
way past dawn.