Poetry

No.

I can't do that.

I can't kill him.

I can't watch him die,

not again.

And this is him,

the real number 3.

it was barely audible 

yet soft and sure 

in the heat of the moment. 

what? 

I ask 

even though I know what you said. 

I know the weight 

Every day

I'm so used to getting ignored

I try to talk, but you talk over me

I'm at the point where I just stop talking...

The only thing you talk about is yourself

Today, I watched boys climbing a log stuck vertically in the sand

And girls kicking at leaves just for the fun of it,

And oh, when did our youth slip through the backdoor unnoticed,

mother! i cry, captive of the wind

carrying my voice for those to hear who

accept failure is not an option & instead pursue

the package of progress, the patch of promise

a battle cry to be heard, 

tall

and ghostly pale

as if he were drenched in sheer silk 

was what I saw when he left the room, 

leaving behind footprints of moonlight in the halls. 

cool as a winter breeze

Still light, yellow. Temples faced at the sky, the church of recollection echoes with ‘Old Florida’ shrimp spices. Gasoline and salty motorcycles revv by with the pattern of pulse in my neck.

Having a best friend is like

you know all their deepest secrets

but will forget their favorite color.

We go for calculus before algebra

before we even know it since

every bff relationship is an even,

We didn't do what was possible in our work, we broke everything every time we changed the world anew.

     i. March 10th, 2020. Spring break. I was eight.

 “Mommy, what’s Covid?” I asked curiously.

“Oh, sweetie, that’s nothing to worry about.” She replied.

She upsets me

Her face

The way she laughs

The way she talks

She's like the piece of hair

That is never in the right place

Why does she even wear that

Why does she look like that

Looking at her

my final fate– here i stand as the anticipation builds. 

all i ever spent my life waiting for

stands still here– emotionless