His pants were too big for him
back then we were poor
so he'd need to wear whatever came down from me
and my stuff came from cousins well off
He'd bite to soothe some unrest within his heart
Yet I saw him pale and real not violent
Becoming obsessed with certain things
seeing only the good in me
sitting alone in the lounge
the haze of daycloud his spotlight
lighting up his symmetrical fringe
imitating me like a parrot
A will of granite in the awkward body of a child
He'd go forth into the fire of the dare
and we'd both face hell for it
me Starting the chaos and he erupting it
Now he sees the weakness in me
I in him
the disconnection
a low symphony of preliminary regret
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