J, after you

For 25 years I’ve been collecting dots

And for the last three months, connecting thoughts

Of you and me and how they say I’d like you

Because I’m like you.

My blood is words and thoughts; love and booze

But that blood isn’t yours, and I know who’s

Responsible for it all, the good, the bad.

Just me, J.

We fell for books and boys that broke us

Falling in love at high speeds, at angles

And we might be strong but we can bend

And break and burn out, too.

I grew up after you, your image, influence

That’s why they watched me, captured by congruence

And now I’m here, another point reached by you

And yes, I’m like you.

My stomach is sick, my thighs are bruised

My body is open, my trust abused

And I understand it all, exactly

Trust me, J.

But I can see reason in this anachronism

And it’s because of my hope beyond all pragmatism

That I could have known you, exactly as you were.

I choose another way.

I choose to stay.


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