I reminisce in the days my knuckles
weren't covered in blood,
but Cheeto dust.

On the run from myself,
disguises a face I no longer recognize
staring back at me
in the
mirror.

Black clothes were gothic
rather than mandatory.

Moonshine was the way the sky looked,
not a drink.

Innocence is held most dearly by those who no longer own it.

Children do not know what they have lost
until it is gone.
Object permanence fun,
not a problem.


Cheeto dust,
finger licking,
orange not red.

orange not red.

orange

not




R                            E                            D.


An unsettling sort of ending, childhood,
you can't pinpoint an end nor a beginning.










Hey, at least it was fun while it lasted.