You came over to say your last goodbye.
You had an appointment with fate, you knew.
I Didn't.
six-years-old
I continued to draw in my beat up notebook with half a crayon.
You spoke with mom for a while and a week later
your liver exploded.
Cirrhosis
Why? Because of Alcoholism.
Your love grew stronger for Bacardi 151.
Straight out the bottle.
It consumed you until you arrived to Mexico.
And you consumed it like it was Juice.
I remember that Gatorade bottle you would fill up twice a day
Not with water, but with your poison.
Yes there was times when you were sober.
Remembering that time you let me pick out a toy from the local discount store.
You though I wanted a pack of crayons and so you got them for me.
You asked what was wrong and I started to cry.
It's funny because I asked for a toy stroller.
Pink and small where I would carry my toy baby.
The baby with pen markings all over it.
The two things sound so similar in Spanish
So you went back and bought it.
Warmth is all I feel when I tell that story.
I have one picture left of you and a faint memory.
I just know you were special.
I still remember our small time we had together.
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