You carried me on your shoulders
when the road was too muddy for feet.
I laughed so loud the birds flew.
You only smiled a little,
but I thought it meant you were happy.
You fixed my ribbon,
again and again.
It never stayed.
But you always tried.
That was enough.
You let me make crowns for you.
Grass, weeds, whatever I found.
You wore them for a moment,
just long enough for me to believe
that we matched,
that we belonged together
even if no one else wanted us.
At night, you sat beside the jar,
watching the fireflies with me.
I thought we were both safe.
I thought the light stayed
because you wanted it to.
Sometimes your eyes went far away.
Like you were listening to something
I couldn't hear.
I called your name.
You always answered.
But not always right away.
Sometimes I thought
you didn't love me.
Then I told myself
love doesn't have to show.
It just has to stay.
So I held on to you.
This morning,
your chair was empty.
The crown lay on the table.
The jar was dim.
The bell rang.
I thought it meant morning.
I thought it meant
you were on your way home.
Brother
Brother
Brother
I said it again and again
to keep you near.
I said it until my throat hurt.
I said it into the walls,
into the jar,
into the ribbon that wouldn't stay tied.
I waited by the window.
The sky turned to noon.
The road stayed empty.
I told myself you were coming.
I told myself the bell was lying.
I told myself—
until the words
stopped sounding true.
Brother?
Where are you?
Why can't I remember
your face
your voice
your hands holding mine—
I press the crown to my chest
but it feels like weeds.
I shake the jar
but the fireflies are gone.
I tie the ribbon tight
but I don't know
who I wanted it neat for.
I wait at the window
wait
wait
for someone
I can't
remember.
The name
slips out of me
falls apart in my mouth
and
vanishes.
I open the door
to see if you're coming.
The road is empty.
I tell myself I've forgotten
what you looked like
because you're late.
Late people blur in the mind.
That's all.
The jar flickers once—
then still.
The crown wilts
where I left it.
The ribbon slips from my hair
and I don't fix it.
I sit by the window
and wait
for a brother
I can't picture
I can't recall
I can't name
The word I want
is gone
I reach for it—
but my hands
close on air.
Nothing.
Only me.
Waiting.