I wish you goodness.

And when the sun peaks a little higher- I’ll think it’s you. whether that means anything or everything- I’ll abide by it like a truce, a kept secret, a scripture.

I fear getting older. How the my bones ache a-little more than they used to. How everyone moves on. How the grownups are getting too grown up. I can’t explain these things without feeling them – it’s like a tangled mess in my mind that all leads back to the blood pumping to my heart. Surely there’s more to this that keeps me alive. Keeps me awake. Keeps me whole. Whatever the mess may be, make it a good one.

Yesterday I cut my finger open on a piece of glass. You held out your shirt to cover the wound. I asked, “what if I ruin it?”, and you said “it’s just red”. -AMT.