Carry You - first draft

I celebrate today as if it is your birthday when my loneliness
starts to crumble from above.
Cousin, I have been living to meet you.
I called upon your name and the negative space
cracked but remained intact.
I want to play with you,
you bag of marbles
but I would die if I were to lose any part of you.
However I breathe more blissfully knowing not your shape or laugh.
Yet I call a name that has never crowned you, cousin,
and your shadow moves like a squirrel through my peripheral.
That is all I can get.
Your mother adored your little body before you could
grow limbs to know what love feels like.
She was all around you for a while it felt
like an eternity of a warm golden bath to live in.
I understand you are homesick and life has outgrown you
too quickly.
I promised myself that it was your sneeze I heard when my mind
drifted like pollin at the thought of your allergies.
Sneeze followed by faint chuckle.
Mid July we hoped you would dive jubilantly into hands
that would hold you like jewels.
And I still hold you like rubies because you never departed,
were never disposed of.
I continue to hold you and will caress your kindling spirit with my cheeks
some day.
But I'm still here for you, holding your name on
the edge of the cliff of my lips,
occasionally damming the tears with fingertips.