Teeth made of sugar
stiff, heavy legs
piles of curds
I could not have imagined
trying to walk on,
my beautiful young friend
now made of crepe paper.

That guy in the photo
trying to smile
what the fuck?
When did that decrepit
old fart commandeer my
young soul?
No hint of joy
eyes dull and glassy,
set deep in that haggard,
death-haunted face

seriously, my love,
what the fuck?

This entry was posted in poem.

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