There is a box titled
"useless"
that has been pushed into
the deepest
darkest

loneliest

areas of my brain.

Where silver lights
and crisp images
force me to think of a
better past and fuel a
sense of want

with the life I
used to live
and the people always
are smiling and I am always smiling
and the resolution is so clear you
can barely tell

it's fake

But there is a box titled
"memories"
that my mom keeps in
the room adjacent
to the fire

And inside are pictures
that are grainy and yellowed
and stained with caffeine
and ***** and hot chocolate.

The blurred image of my
brother's smile hidden in
his balloon face expanding
and stretching and cracking.

The worn candid of my mother looking
upon me as a baby
with eyes that scream for a breath
and yellowed teeth to remind me
this is no

goal.

It was simply there and now
it is gone.