Dreams of a life I now live, just now

I've finally begun to settle in
to this little nook in the corner
of a state I know too well.

I've been able to embed my roots
atop the limestone foundation
beneath the rolling hills of this city.

Upon arrival, I was splintered stones,
but through humid summers and empty winters
I've chiseled a new image from the rubble.

I can finally say I am happy again.

Now, upon an unexpected rejection,
one I have yet to fully swallow,
I await another move to a ground unknown.

I try to avoid any resentment
towards the names I thought I knew
while lifeblood trickles down my spine.

You've forced me to move from my family
for the first time ever; this is not what I dreamt,
but this is what you've forced me to do,

and because of that, forever will I resent you.

One pill,
two pill,
three pill, four,
i self-medicate
and contemplate
the love i can't
reciprocate.

One year,
two year,
three year, four,
i survived
and archived
the love i couldn't
revive.

One time,
two time,
three times, four,
i command
and expand
the love i now
demand.

Cherry tomatoes
ripened and red
sprouting from
a store-bought ***;
sweetened soil
with water and sun
and leaves as green
as the growing grass.

Routine enacts certainty
when maintained concrete.

I forgot
to keep with it;
the scarlet skin
wilted dull and brown
and the leaves wrinkled
under a midwestern freeze,
a jar of life
left to die.

Two cherry tomatoes
survived the exodus
and remain alive
in the wasteland of death;
striving against the odds
to pull each nutrient
sickling through the soil,
sinking beneath the surface.

The most difficult lives,
the ones worth living.

My only wish
is to see Mom and Dad
sharing a smile
alongside the pride
they exude for me.

I wish to be seen
by those unknown
just as my girl
looks upon me
each morning:
homegrown and unbent,
unrelenting in my valor,
no dissent in my mourning.

Strands of gold
conceal bright eyes
hidden beneath
irises of caramel glaze;
sugar-coated fur
softens a day's blow
and reminds me
of a life worth living,
even if it is not
my own.

You were named Sagan
after the stars in the sky,
constellations so bright
brimming in our peripherals;
out of all the tribulations
tossed onto my chest,
you are the one
worth all four years
we forcibly endured.

They say
a dog mimics
their owner;
unfortunately,
this remains true.

The click of the dishwasher
reminds you of our shouts;
the heat from the stove
alludes to our physicality;
the vroom of the vacuum
reminiscent of 3 am cleaning,
a naive attempt
to mitigate the complexities
of his notable absence
night after night,
abandonment,
disregard.

I hoisted you over my shoulder,
carried you across campus
in the dead of the night,
solely to search
for his guilty eyes
peering from the shadows,
reflecting the prediction we'd made.

He has no idea
what he truly did
to you and me.

I am so sorry
you were borne
into an atmosphere
so dysfunctional,
so debilitating.

Showered with love,
yes you were,
but our words
rushed over you
as a stream of water,
bubbling through jagged stones,
reshaping your edges
into a rounded surface,
the smooth malleability
a cruel juxtaposition
of your selfless love
and your innate reciprocity
to positive affirmations
from those you adore.

We've made it out;
we've survived it all.

I do not listen
to the muddled hypocrisy
jumbling from a preacher's mouth;
yet, each night, I thank God
for giving me you,
so true, so blue,
so innocent, so perfect.

You were what I needed
to make it out alive,
and you are what I need
to maintain my breath;
you are the reason
I remain on this earth
to this day.

Thank you, Sagan,
for all you've done,
for all you continue to do
for this broken boy
undeserving
of your selfless,
unsolicited,
venerated
devotion.

Puddles of violet
stain my eyes,

each thought
deepens the hue,

a tattoo of exhaustion
eternally stained.