Eighteen smiles.

These phantom lims need a distraction. /they/ and /their blood/. they take to the town. any town. some nights they can't tell. some nights they want to fill the grand canyon with cement. a boy of wounds, please no more paul revere that will show up on his doorstep out of breath saying "the sadness is coming." (2000s); little boy, childish behavior, younger him. a child full of courage and curiosity. if he was born back in 1611, you'll see his name written in The Six for its essay, wondering why snowflakes always had perfect, sixfold symmetry. the teen him saw the sky like aged lemon shavings. all it does is hurt. I thought he has torn some houses in Jurbarkas, swearing he hates his city. I always know he got sick with the word like "stay". everything they imply. the feeling of leaving, it was always there. it stood in line with him when he bought groceries. it liked the cold spot in his bed. it's calculated and clandestine. it was long before he believes in angels, before he hold a piece of heaven in his heart, now for some days all his girl wants from the world is to hear his sleeping voice on the other side of the phone, she calls him and the static on the phone sounds a lot like love. everything is gentle and soft. (I'll be home safe); sent. (I'll be home safe); received. from miles, she lets him know he makes her happy from the sky picture of his hometown he sends, it once made her into butterfly in a single afternoon. I think he now smiles when he sees pastel colors or wildflowers on the roadside. back in the same month. candles, cake, wishes, gift, giggles. the looks of each other through the screen. I wonder if she made it this year better, did she? 

(rinzsu)