i still have dreams of her
but she's different now
renewed somehow
¿happy perhaps?
that's quite the stretch
her eyes no longer scream
rather they sing of
daylight and bubble gum kisses
the dark circles
that had burrowed under
her eyes
were uprooted
and gone
her smile is wider
and genuine
her teeth no longer reek of
cyanide
and paper cuts
her lips no longer curl sadly
around each punchline
rather they wrap around each word that
exits my chapped lips
her lips are no longer
chapped
instead they are soft and whole and healthy

she straightened her hair
and chopped it to her
shoulders
as though each of her problems
dropped
with her delicate curls
as though her past would be as lost
and as irretrievable as her hair
she tells me
that she's never felt
better
and i know that her kind of better
is dropping everything and running
and turning into a cold brick
because once you're a brick
the only pain you can feel is when your bones
chip
i fear i've lost
my dear, Anjelica
to this destructive
"better"

she straightened her hair
she straightened her hair
she straightened her hair
and it's cookie cutter straight now
chalkboard flat somehow
she keeps it on her shoulders
her eyes don't scream
and in my dreams
i see us dancing but
this is not a dream anymore
who am i to escape to
now that my dear, Anjelica
has a light gleaming in her eye
and that same eye
is whispering to me of
dreams
dreams
dreams
and life
wonderful colorful life
and she tells me
that her favorite color is
yellow
because it symbolizes
hope
and i begin to realize
that perhaps she is
"better"
and perhaps this is for the
"better"

but i am selfish
and i am petrified that
i do not understand
this new
Anjelica
this happy
Anjelica
i do not know her
she was the only one i knew
and now i am
simply lost
for how can i
write
about a stranger?
i am the
stranger

she paints yellow flowers
on her window
and she lies down
and she sleeps
as i sit there
i see that
one thing has remained
the same:
she still looks
damaged
in her sleep