sing me a song that come from the soles of your feet and reminds you of your boss’s favorite tie- the same one that hung him from the rafters
wear the jacket that makes you feel like a fallen angel, hidden in the hell of mortality right beside my brother’s broken heart
“Where did he go?”
watch the sunset and wish on the moon as it calls to all of the lost children staring up at the stars from their caverns of misunderstood rationalizations
hold your breath on sunny days and blow out the nectar of your mother’s sweet lies as you choke on the smoke of your grandma’s last cigarette
hear her voice and tell the man sitting next to you on the train that his father would be proud- complement his shoes
“I’m homeless.”
tell me about the summer you fell from a tree and couldn’t remember the color blue, but you knew the color of my eyes
stare at the car sitting in the parking lot- remember when your mom had the exact same one, and you lost her favorite amethyst ring inside its heart for a year
“Just don’t drop it.”
you dropped it and her heart, losing both to your inability to hold tight to what means the most to you- was it on purpose?
ask your father why he doesn’t love you like he loves the amber in his cup, stop crying when after all these years his answer never changes:
“It doesn’t disappoint me.”
did your mother realize what she was saying when she told you to leave? you came back- she never asked you to.
throw up the words you didn’t say when you had the chance, it’s too late, they don’t care anymore
“Neither should you.”
