Jackthemanic

                     I remember the curve of your mouth                                              and the width of your gaze.                                     I remember the deep pool of your iris                                                    which if I gazed into long enough,                                         I felt like I could dive into.                                      I remember the warmth in my stomach                                                          as you looked at me like no one else was there.                                 And feeling as I did stood there,                   I felt

From a young age I watched you. You stuck drawings on the wall and scribbled interesting words on pieces of paper. Nothing failed to amuse or impress. A crooked picture of you and me hung on my wall. Crooked because I liked it that way, askew much like our relationship. Our conversations were silent drawings by crayons. Our fun was fun in worlds no one could touch let alone smell in the air. You burnt holes through dry leaves with our mother’s lighter, I watched the pupils of my eyes widening and drew back running back to the house to tell a parent. A crooked pair. Always games. Always games I hated.