Picking up my pen
I think of his face
lit up by the sweet smile,
his long black hair
partly covering his face and eyes,
his brown eyes
brightened and caramel color.

Picking up my pen
I think of similar memories, those times
            in his darkened room
when the night was falling
and the only light was from tv and computer screens,
shining on the side of his face,
his sleepy eyes intent on the xbox game
while I watched the game
also.

Picking up my pen
I think of leaving
the room,
while his hand holds
down the lighter,
its flame burning bright and crackling,
the heat melting the wax piece
held above the flame,
an intense, focused stare
on his features.