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.
Apr 23, 2017
Apr 23, 2017 at 2:42 AM UTC
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.
