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May 2017
He stood on the corner and cried.
Not for his mother.
Not for his brother.
Not for his lover.

He cried for the old world.
A Memory never coming back.
Cried and Cried.
What a *****.
Memory.
My first love.
Was a *****.

He stood at the corner and cried.
Cried and Cried.
Until he died.
A little death.
Mouth agape.
Exhaust. Intake.
Painting his pate with lovers and lakes,
He trembled and raked his mind for a day,
He jumped up and down but could not shake
The way he felt about his own best friend.

The further he was the tighter the tension
It didn't make sense, how could a stupid boy choke him up.
Invisible chains tied to invisible cuffs on his wrists,
but he knew he was free. He didn't want to break, see
He chose the chain to remind his brain, that he could make me
live again.

I was his best friend.

Still am until the end.

Whatever that means.
See,
he sees outside of time.
He knows how he will die.
Collapsing with a sigh,
He sees me by his side,
Attached with arm and knife,
He finally rests his eyes,
on co dependent life.
A gift from the King.
Orion Schwalm
Written by
Orion Schwalm  26/Nevada City, CA
(26/Nevada City, CA)   
385
   KiraLili, unnamed and Rob Rutledge
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