Here's a poem to you,
the boy with the tousled hair...
This ache hasn't dissipated in 44 days.
Its consistency has shifted, immigrated...
one swallow
is all it could take...
I wake up in a room different than
my own, a place I once called home...
Flashback flashback
But things aren't bad now...
spending evenings in the cold,
preparing to survive what could be...
You ask how I feel?
Exposed - a newborn...
How do you sleep?
With bountiful dreams...
Wish you could be a plot point I
dreamed up - created for the...
I don't know when I started to
hunch over, but now it's all I do...
here i am again,
a witness...
You offered a possibility of reprieve -
of rest I couldn't quite comprehend...