you told me you'd always
be there waiting to catch me for when or if I was ready to fall.

i would look down
and see you with your
outstretched arms and unwavering eyesight set on me.

all this time you've been ready for me,
and so one day i jumped.
i jumped to and for only you.
and as i made my descent i looked down to see you.
and i did. see. you.

but you were running to catch someone else.
someone that was ready before me.

this was the day i had chosen to trust you with my love.
this was the day that you broke me in more ways than one.

you arrived too early and faltered and i arrived too late and shattered.

{d.f. | 11/29/17}

when i smell smoke i think of you
you’ve only just turned 16, but it seems like you’re ageless.
maybe you’ve been told you’re mature for your age one too many times
i remember us standing in a field
you lifted a lit cigarette to your lips and laughed at the habit
a scholarship student turned burnout with an addiction
i smiled but my heart ached for you as i coughed when you exhaled
you remembered my asthma
you threw the cigarette on the ground and stomped on it
we walked through the quiet town, miles from your home
you looked like magic
you said you were worried your vices outweighed your virtues
you said you were worried you were standing in your grave
you said you were worried your expiration date was close
i smiled and shook my head
i said you were wrong
i think you were right

how vigorously you tear me apart, how sweetly you mold me back together. you don’t see me as i wish you would. i imagine you feel the same. i feel as if you always look at me from a distance. i am so small compared to the rest of the universe. i question whether i will ever be good enough. i once dreamt of a night spent alone in your room, enveloped in each other, absorbing all that we can of each other. i look up and hope you’re staring back but i just see the back of your head. the sky was grey that night.

I’ve burnt through so many cigarettes that
my mother would be ashamed of me.
And I could blame my father
for leaving his 100’s by his wallet and keys,
giving me the nicotine for free.

What will it cost him, though?

My lungs were becoming his lungs.
It’s frightening how a vice
turns into an addiction
that turns into an idol
that turns into malignancy.

I watched him hold a lighter.
I watched him hold the cancer between his fingers.

I’m watching him turn into the ash
that fills the ash tray sitting in our backyard.

It’s funny how weak one sees another
when one has overcome a dependency.

Put down the matches,
and give your lungs a break.