Just when I think
I have finally slipped free,
Regret slams back down
like a vise I am one inch short
of escaping-

He is built the same
as this shade-once-a-young-man,
all skin-and-bones frame
with wiry muscle you don't expect
holding him together.
He even has the same concave indent
in the center of his chest.
He's a runner,
occasionally drawing,
quiet and reserved at first
who diligently works.

The similarities burn
until differences surface-

Dedication to multiple sports,
not music.
He draw ideas and images,
art not the plans
for something he'll later build.
His eyes may be blue but they're dark,
and he is not broken,
at least,
not in ways he's not trying to fix.

I will see this youth for himself,
not for the friend long gone.