Country of Origin: The United States of America
My jeans are drenched as I look
at the blurred images of you. It is hard to
remember your face, though, when I can
look in a mirror, I see you. Every night
when I go to bed, I think
about my life if you were.
I might understand boys better.
Every year, when it’s your birthday, I would
ask what your gift would be. You
shrug, Million dollar.
A drawing, picture, or a
pair of socks? Every year I want
you in front of me.
Your grizzly arms surrounding
me. I turn to the earth
it to swallow me.
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