22

I dream about the way your mouth moved when you laughed; I dream about the color of your eyes and the way your hair fell around your neck. 

There’s a group of towers. They shine in the afternoon sun. Within their bodies stairs cross and climb. I’m afraid of heights. The people I used to know move around and below me. I see the bullies from my childhood. They’re here now and close. They want things I can never give them. In the end I become a traitor. I feel death without knowing its meaning. 

Before I pass, I’m with you even though I never was. I’m beside you in the pine. 

I know it doesn’t matter.