somewhere between pool parties and first kisses ー
sixth grade orientation and the summer of ninth grade you learned to welcome pain in your life.
Pain arrived unannounced in the form of curly black hair and a 12 pack of beer.
Pain arrived looking like a pencil sharpener or thin red lines across pale white
It took form in a lost best friend, years in love with you, while you loved everyone but yourself.
Pain was packed in a suitcase, and boy did Pain travel.
In 06’ it lived in a room, in a house you did not recognize.
In 07’ it stayed the night in your family van.
In 13’ was rushed to live in a hotel.
In a year you do not remember, it locked the door and left for the night, leaving their two children behind.
Pain was watching as he reached for the knife. Pain also guided you up the steps of the police station
But now...
at 18, pain is waking up.
Pain is believing you will never be loved.
Pain no longer sports curly black hair but now exists in pixels and LED lights
and fits in the palm of your hand.