You're looking old

You’re looking old or maybe its me who’s looking old.

We haven’t seen each other in so many years I forgot you’d have seen more suffering since then.

It’s still there at least, your smile searching out mine.

Our friends have died, some of them anyway. Remember those of us that sat at the edges of the fence and covered our ears against time? and the boy with the small hands who never came outside?

They say he had promise, a promise to the Devil. He was there the day you left me on the field and needed someone to hold you.

He was there just now there never again. Just like that.

I never once thought I’d say this but I like your hands worn down and shriveled up from holding tight to what you love. Love, love, love. new meaning for an old word.

Quiet please, while I dictate to you this foreign feeling I knew once, first that time I held your hand behind the school and last when I dreamed of the sun delivering my husband home after the seeds had reclaimed him from the other odds and ends.

Do you remember what I looked like before I knew pain?

You're looking old

achambers

Los Angeles, United States

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