The Letter by Chad Lahr

THE LETTER

I can still feel the gravel through the tires

The rumbling of impending doom ahead

Every action occurred in slow motion

What the hell am I even looking for?

Past the door, mountains of nostalgia rise

Like garage sale gargoyles mocking me

Something isn’t right; I search for answers

and for him, how did I find my way through?

The second door awaits, this one leads in

Somehow I knew what I would find inside

He was my brother after all. I knew.

I opened it without hesitation

A notebook, pen parallel beside it

There was no reason to rush but I did

The blood drained from my face, yet I felt heat

As I read over a fucking goodbye

How did it start? Oh, how did it begin?

Has my brain begun to fail me so soon?

No. I know how it felt, I know it hurt

Suddenly, I fell. Afraid to get up

I must read on, through words burning my eyes

And staring though a hurricane of tears

“He was sad,” repeated. He was just sad

And at that moment I could do nothing

Our childhood was continuing to fade

As I held on to what I could, I broke.

I felt my own candle melting away

Yet I had to stay here, for now at least

I will remain and do what he could not;

Face this world alone. Don’t do it alone.