Red Numbers

When the letters start to blend together

And thinking is a struggle-

A giant tug of war where

The white flag is in my hands.

All I can think about are battles

Battles and raids and gunshots,

Boundary lines where death is not and never will be

Poetic.

Never a lovely touchstone on a bleeding teens' broken heart

Nor to be represented by

A wilted flower, robbed of feeling

How about

A sobbing mother?

While those ignorant breathe freely.

I wouldn't be so lucky,

For I am so acute.

These vivid thoughts run through my mind

Your laugh, which I can only imagine

Is rough around the edges

Goes on full blast in the stereo of my brain-

Speakers pounding.

Desert sands wave in the heat

As I see your body collapse-

So eager

Hypothetically, oh, of course.

What would I do, if you were to die?

I, who love you so much,

I, who am marked by a bold red number,

Barely grazed by you full being

Your insightful thoughts and politeness

Are so affecting me.

I'm so cocky in my own way-

Ignoring the years and miles between us.

What of me?

I think, as I see you yet again in my minds eye-

Falling,

"Brown bread"

Before you hit the ground.