neurosis

This town has 100 ways of tearing you apart and the street signs stole them all and forced them down your hollow throat. I have already told you this but you continue to drown me out. Too focused on the lorikeets flying in the air, the heat is scorching now but we don’t care enough to notice the sweat dripping down our faces like the waterfall we saw 3 miles back. You promised your mom we’d be back before dinner but dinner was an hour ago and we aren’t turning around anytime soon. Hell is real and we are walking right through it, feet hitting the dirt softly as we complain of the ache we will feel tomorrow. The air of summer is suffocating but our lungs are stronger than they were when I was 5 and you were 7. You wish you could remember what it felt like to be young and your hands shake because you will never remember 7 ever again. You do remember what it felt like to be 5 and full of sorrow, your dad didn’t want to walk out that door but he did and you will never forgive him for it no matter how hard your sister bangs on your wall and demands you to. I will remember what it was like to be 5 always, running tap water and broken windows are etched into my memory like the cat I drew on the edge of that week's grocery list. But 5 and 7 for me are not 5 and 7 for you and I am grateful. I am grateful the angels didn’t break into your bedroom and scoop you into their fragile arms and erase you from the universe. I am grateful the faeries didn’t bare their teeth at you and threaten to tear your limbs from your body if you didn’t come with them. And I am grateful you are still alive and breathing. 
The waterfall roars somewhere behind us as you grab my hand and run us into forever.

 

chelseli

VT

YWP Alumni

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