the 7th

The night you died was the night the me that you knew also died one night, one minute, one you, one me, one car, one dream, one million regrets and things I want to say and do that I never did the flashing lights and sounds for something so innocent must be like a fly to a light, a hope of something to leave a memory of something new and exciting. but like a fly would on a light bulb, it burns into the horrible reality. I hope you found whatever you where looking for and can be at peace. you didn't see the aftermath, the tears, the blood, the panic, the bright vet lights, the feeling of stepping into night air to not hear the conformation from the vet caring room that your heartstopped immediately upon impact. you never saw the snow, but it snowed at your burial. I will think of you when it snows, snow is for the sweet boy who never got to witness it. (I know this is kinda depressing but is it really a good poem if it doesn't even try make u feel anything, ahaha)