it all kind of
blurs together,
the mishaps
and "what if"s.

the well-wishes
of old friends
etched carelessly
with bleeding ink.

looking through
yearbooks, trapped
behind cartilage cages.

when you think
about it all too
hard, your lungs
do a flip-flop.

but when you don't
think about it at all,
your skull feels bare.

"bittersweet"