my boy back home doesn’t call it beautiful,
doesn’t say anything at all
hands like stone things I have forgotten like
grief in the snow his body
in my mind not a body still
how much will you ask me to hold
how much will I hold without you asking
i just want to quit looking at your horoscope before i look at mine
my mom keeps telling me i’m going to go bald before i turn 30
i keep pulling at my hair anyway
i’m thinking about shaving it all off
i mean it this time at least
that’s what i’ve been telling people, drunk at house parties
in a place you’ll never see
what you would think if i became a new self
can i become a new self
i wait til i think you’re asleep to text you
so i don’t have to feel so bad when you don’t text back
let’s pretend that every night is new year's eve like
we finally realize the inescapability
of spring so fuck it let’s celebrate let’s paint the moon
with glue throw glitter at it let it rain down all around
like some new bright thing we can’t escape
let’s kiss
with some desperation like we still only know how
to fight
we don’t see the same weather patterns anymore
i still have your address saved
in my weather app
and i like to check your weather
when i’m checking mine
and usually when i’m sad
which happens a lot now
the last night i saw you it was flooding
but i didn’t tell you to drive safe
after you left, i left. followed the lightning
to another place. the lightning is angry here
i would do it over
i would tell you to be careful this time
Rebecca Brown is an MFA candidate at the University of Alabama, with work recently published or forthcoming from Skydeer Helpking, Alien Mouth, and Little River. They can usually be found on Twitter @notalake, or on Tumblr at notamountain.tumblr.com.