"Where is my phone?
I've looked in every room...
I will not write another word,
Thoughts are passing away...
There were galaxies in her eyes because
When she hung herself from the old tree...
And then she sighs
and says in a shaking voice...
Your mother has been worried
about the exit wounds on your shoulders...
There's something nostalgic about
dimly-lit roads and faded footpaths...
Red:
for the excruciating pain that you caused my young...
You taught me of fire,
mimicking its fury with limbs aloft...
I remember
we were selfless, innocent...
As a child I was fascinated by your back,
I saw your freckles as docks and my crayons...
Preheat an oven to 350 degrees,
combine words to sugar...
Once upon a time,
I used to describe you as...