milk, what a waste
you were my favourite
addressing your past
Now

salvation is in clam
chowder and bad
moon rising,
addressing our past

childhood was much
Like, a play
not a lot has changed
At least that's what
I wrote
On the postcard
Addressing my past.

What I can control
And what I cannot

we were wonderful then
that day

a passionate heart
afraid of committing
detaching my instincts

for great joy and great sorrow
closely related
tugging at my hair

i daydream of nights i have no recollection of

i close my eyes and think of how bright we felt

how young and in love we were

how easily we had fun

building forts, indulging in frito pie

spending time with our best friend reggie

piecing together saturday nights over breakfast tacos

summer left me wanting more.

right now we sing along
our inner monologue
clenching eyes, shut tight
with fists
and childlike gestures

then we were
enemies
because I drunkenly
opened my mouth

I considered
Not
but of course

that is not who
I am

You went to bed
I watched Charlie Chaplin
I wanted to ******* was all,
But we fought about white privilege

I tried to apologise for being a minority..
maybe.
And you for
Not.

We woke up and forgave each
Other

History huh, and the lies it feeds.
Welcome to Texas
The sign read.

Beside you
this small child, follows
hides near you
they call your name, play with your hair

You fell out of
And
In this panic

The look he gave
saved you
when he was away,
you drowned yourself

And there, you were safe.

The distance between my green boots
And the door
The distance between your well ****** mattress
And the floor.
The distance between your well played guitar
And my well played underwear.
The distance between your chartreuse chair, your favorite
And my favorite painting
You made it
The distance in beautiful images
And the image of me rotting
And the image of them squealing.