thirteen years old, you were too young
i cant help but say it pitifully, words trickling down my chin in strings
of empathy i dont know is really there or not. i want it to be
there were cracks by your fingerbeds and they were filled with sun,
bright and noisy, humming into still summer air while you slept
i couldnt, not that year

youre i-dont-know how old now,
someplace far, someplace i-dont-know how far but wherever it is its quiet and cold, i hope youre sleeping
or floating, i guess
skin turning to stardust as you near a sun that was never your own