living backwards

bunny cant even remember us. Memory’s the struggling strands of canvas on the journal’s edge. Children are no longer. Little brothers, grown men. Memories, the linking chain in the mist of time. Foggy cries. Clouds that shine. A belly to her bosom tenderly real. A fallen leaf on a winter day touched by a ray of light. Nocturnal flow with a destination. Reservoir of doubts. Fighting the roaring winds. Knowing what you don’t want to. Accepting the sacred regret. Changing to be different. The hair. The smile. The boobs. The nose. But the turmoil remains under the superficial verbage of strength. Blonde to brown. Plain to style. By the next cut all will change. A new place, you think. You will have him back. Less tears, more smiles this time. Heart envelopes ration and suffocates doubt. A light bulb without the shade. Awkward and lonely no more. your hair grows. your waist does, too. the only thing that remains constant is You.