i
contain
strings of
dreams
that fold
together,
a new set of
veins.
sleep now
put your mind
at rest. i will tell the sun to forgo her shiny attitude and leave you alone. your dreams are like mine now.
but what are they worth? there are piles of rejection letters and bills sleeping in the crooked mailbox that you accidently drove into once when you forgot how to use the brakes and the grass has become a yellow sickly colour because you're gone. people find the house too silent now but i hear the rooms echo your voice.
and old photographs make me
pour out as they merge and become
my memories. mum

says she's sad and in the back of my mind, i remember to tell myself everyday that she's unhappy because it was you and not me that faded away under the moonlight. she comes sometimes to clean the house and she is angry that i
don't go to college everyday
and smile
like i did before.
webb came by few days ago to tell me that he
misses you and then, remember how you said grieve always makes us do funny things? so
i kissed him
and it felt good to be held by someone other than
myself but it also felt
wrong. you should know i felt guilty too
because he was yours, wasn't he?

sometimes when i'm in your room, i get this urge to fall apart just the way
you did,
and take the gun
and press it to my skull
and stop this rhythm
in me that makes me
want to scream and scream and scream till my lungs have no air anymore. i could die
of collapsed lungs but i'm not sure that will work

and i'm not sure of
anything anymore and
yes you know damn well
that i'm

blaming you for all of this.
love you,
Leanne.