I still remember the smell of your skin and the shape of the tiny scar on your shin, I remember that when anxiety took hold you would twirl your hair and then you'd drink as much as you could without a care.
I still remember the sound of the groans you'd make when you'd start to wake and how many consecutive afternoon walks you would take.
I still remember the way you would give everyone a nickname, fondly using it anytime you got and how the leaves falling to the grounds in autumn made you feel like losing the plot.
I still remember how you found comfort in a routine, making sure it stayed in order and how you always, always had a large bottle filled with water.
I still remember your bottom tooth that was jaggered, and the how you'd laugh about your bed hair being haggered - you used to chuckle in the mirror and say 'Old Greg!' And how you wore the terrible tattoo I made for you on your leg.
I still remember the first time I saw you and how I felt inside and I still remember all the pain you would hide.
I still remember how much love we shared and how coming between us, nobody dared.
Until I stopped trying to remember and tried with plenty of will to forget. Until that day, with the news I was met.
I still remember ...
I still remember. I remember the smell, your skin, your hair, your care, your wake, your take, sameness, newness and laughter too, all the first times and last times with you.
