i held you once
though in what way i'm not sure.
i remember feeling you in my arms not long ago.
it was vivid, it was real.
you were real.
of that i'm certain.
but i also know,
that i've run my fingers through
smoke, sand, and water,
and that sensation lasted longer
than whatever this was.
when i met you there was a red-gold apple in your hand
and flecks of autumn sun in your eyes.
much against my will,
that's how i remember you.
young, golden.
beautiful.
that god-given castle you sit in now
is beautiful too.
in its own way.
but i trust you know that by know.
still
nice to be
reminded.
the freckles on your nose stand out more
when highlighted by dried blood
and cheap jewelry that turns you green.
if you'd take your knife from off my cheekbone,
i could even show you why.
but truthfully, i'm sick of cigarettes and mcdonald's,
your bitten down nail buds and blue fabric roses.
i recognize you're watchful,
so i'll stop while the list's short.
(though just so you know,
my brother's list is longer)
the point is
i've done enough, paid enough.
even gold turns to dust.
don't follow me,
don't take my hand.
i refuse to let you apologize
after i've learned how to breathe again.
Photo by 
Photo by 
Photo by 
Photo by 
