You brought the rain to my doorstep.
And I soon could not remember your face.
It was misplaced with vinegar,
like a timeless capsule of lost touches
suspended in the ground.
Never making it past the dirt,
and empty cans
promising me energy.
I popped one open,
drawing smoke from the foil
like we did that one night.
One night,
on your truck bed,
instead of in mine.
Loveless lips exposed your thoughts,
along with pictures of your son.
I still couldn't remember what you looked like,
underneath all of the drained expressions and
unfetching movements that
still make sure I don’t feel
fear.
-Swillow
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