to three zero four turnstone, back right bedroom, one red wall,
one year ago.
things improve.
I remember how much you hurt.
I remember how badly your skin blistered inside those cinderblock walls,
the ticking clock, burning eyes, deadened.
I remember the way your voice wavered over the turf and into the pitch-black sky
pinching yourself, aching with the one pounding word pumping again and again:
finally finally finally finally finally finally
you had plans to fulfill and places to be and you knew what they were and that you were going to get them just as soon as you could crawl through the sludge of the months holding you back.
I liked to be free on a wednesday morning, just before lunch. there is always something about the allure of a store so many hours before you will arrive out of breath at the door just to watch the "open" sign flicker off.
I learned to enjoy that summer, I really did,
but lodged somewhere behind a kidney I remember a pair of teeth so tightly clenched that they were beginning to crack.

to three zero four turnstone, back right bedroom, one red wall,
two years ago.
things improve.
I can dive inside my memory and watch your face distend and bubble with tears as you painstakingly pace your way through every ******* college pamphlet you were ever mailed.
I don't like to remember; I still know how acutely you bled,
and how much I'd like to reach back to pull you from your misery and show you what we have done.
I know that you know things will sharpen and blossom and that's why you're crying so wholly;
perk up love, hold fast to your countdown,
fail to combust with ravenous envy as others cross the illustrious stage,
I'm waiting for you here and I promise it really is everything you've ever wanted.

to eight five zero jerry's lane, second floor, front right bedroom, lavender walls,
four years ago,
things improve.
I remember those dry eyes and that flawless exterior,
I remember the knot in your throat and the clamp on your heart that played games with your head.
for the love of god and your health
will you shake your own shoulders so hard you see stars?
no one you meet worth a dime of your time will judge you as hard as yourself,
and I have found even in darkness you will never face demons completely alone.
I want you to climb to your rooftop and fill your lungs with the air of the ashes that haunt you;
for every heart that is broken we also break ground.

to six two three zero north kenmore, fourth floor, southeastern side, western bedroom, perfect white walls,
present day,
things are whirling forward.
*finally finally finally finally finally finally