MEMORY AND MOMENT. .based on a true story

He was a nice guy
That according to me
Everyone who knew him will say the same
"Who was he to you?"
To me??
Together in the Juvenile for months
He was my friend.*brother maybe
The funniest guy I have ever met in my life
"A new day comes with a new joke " He would say in repeat
Luck is when you meet that funny guy who knows he is and should always be funny,
He was of a young age, younger than me by a year
But a big brother to me,
Strong both physically and mentally
It's surprising how he made the hard life simple.
Their is sweetness in a bitter lemon, his words I still remember
Like a love story
,I remember every second that we shared

I was of fifteens years of age then
Short in height and scared of life
Don't create a picture of me in your mind please
This isn't my story, I don't understand how I find myself here
A young strong gentleman he was
14 years maybe. I can't be sure
Dark and a little taller that the short me
Long and bold face, less facial hair
We were kids then
He couldn't stop talking
He also knew he couldn't stop
Sometimes you know your can't then you stop
You just stop yourself
I didn't want him to stop
And if he did, then I would write
Or maybe I wouldn't
I would act like nothings had happened
And just wait. Wait. Wait and wait
He was just a brother like after all

I just ignored the silence
Ignored then ignored..
I assumed like nothing had happened
Keen on the whispers in the silence,
for years I kept waiting
Maybe he would talk. I was sure he would,
He didn't promise anything but I was sure
I didn't want to write. I can't do it.

He stopped talking. That's four months ago
He choose to stopHe stopped himself
But why?  why do that?
He knew no one wanted that
That evening when his mom came home,
That's the story she told me
"Hanging from a rope
Door wide open
Silent. Eyes open,""
She paused wiping tears of her eyes

I listened to the sound of her pause
The world had went silent on her
But why now, why her?
The silence was hurting me
But every tear rolling down her chick,
Gave a sharp ruthless touch to a fresh wound
To be honest it was unbearable
She stared at his room, lips shaking
That's the place: her eyes signaled
I could feel her pain
As I stared at the haunted room;
I could see, feel everything she was going through
I could stop my own tears from falling,
Not because of the silence but her pain.

 Deep I felt it

Maybe I had to see it for myself
She chose to take me to his grave
Flowers for a grave,

Both dainty and distressing,
As tears escape twin rivers of my soul
Convenient time I gave,
Infrequently expressing
The sentiment between routine and role.
Words left unspoken,
Considered unnecessary,
Sunshine and shadows, petals and tears.
Now the bridge is broken,
He is dead and here I am
The chance was temporary,
When together in Juvenile
We could smile,  share and laugh
To cross back and stroll through tender years.
Eulogies and regret,
As mysterious as Jade,
I failed to say just what I really meant.
A cemetery debt I couldn't pay
For love that went unpaid, for a brother
And greeting cards I never even sent.
He was like a brother
That was four years ago

Words left unspoken
Why commit suicide?
Believe me when I say ‘You are not alone"
Many out there are shivering cold to the bone

Express your feelings to someone on the phone
Full of debt.
Never properly slept.
Always sadly wept.
Wish you had something wonderful
You could have treasured and kept
Unsucessfuly with exams
After hectic midnight vision
Who gives a damn!
You are not alone!
So you feel so empty inside
You are full of egoistical pride
To admit the thought of a suicide tide
Love has never even been on your side. No I loved him like a brother
Believe me when I say ‘You are not alone’
With life, there is no stone
That you cannot eventually overthrow
To reclaim your rightful throne
So why commit suicide?...

I stood there crazy talking to a dead man
I was the crazy one
Full of guilt
I did nothing all those years
Maybe even a call could have saved the laughter.
That's why I couldn't write

I couldn't write.. Now I can't stop
Disappointed
Broken
MEMORIES AND MOMENTS

poor English is made in Kenya ..concentrate on the content