u/baby5breath

his mother said he was born with a halo on his head
stuck underneath the dark curls of his hair
but he lost it along the way

.

maybe when he fell out of the trees that he climbed
or when his stepdad came into the picture

.

now he's at a treatment home in south dakota
weaning himself off his arrogance and crystal

.

she showed me all of her favorite pictures of him
but she sent him the best one in the mail
(one from their post-labor photoshoot)

.

he wrote back about how much he missed her
how much he missed home
how much he missed their trips to chicago
forehead pressed against aquarium glass
and if they would ever go again

.

she thought her baby came back 

.

she dressed her best
she made his bed
loaded his little brother and half-sister in the car
to rip down the empty plain freeway

.

to take him back where he belonged
his halo flickering back to life,
she felt it. his sobbing head 
pressed against her chest

.

only to tell her that he didn't want to go
because there was a change of plans 
he and his new facility girlfriend were sober now
and they had everything figured out:

.

greyhound to chicago, stay in a motel,
then in an apartment. finish his GED, 
then get a job. it was all simple, really.

.

she saw the eyes of her father, her uncle, her brother
halos thrown to the ground
shattered like her grandmother's dinner plates

.

you can't go to chicago
and he asks why
you just can't go to chicago
and he asks why

.

you think you're sober?
a six-week program doesn't make you sober
it barely keeps you alive.
sobriety is work

.

it takes years and years and years
and it can go away just like that.
you need structure. and you're not going to get that
running off somewhere else. you're going to get that
back at home.
so get in the car.

.

there were tears. there was screaming.
there was her skin and blood
underneath the girl’s fingernails.
that thanksgiving fight to get him committed
suddenly seemed insignificant.

.

and as he sobbed in the back seat
on the way back to minnesota,
she thought about halos. their light.
if they could ever be mended. or feigned. or found.
if you can get high on one. on your own or others'.
whether it was time to give up on them. or hope.

his mother said he was born with a halo on his head
stuck underneath the dark curls of his hair
but he lost it along the way

.

maybe when he fell out of the trees that he climbed
or when his stepdad came into the picture

.

now he's at a treatment home in south dakota
weaning himself off his arrogance and crystal

.

she showed me all of her favorite pictures of him
but she sent him the best one in the mail
(one from their post-labor photoshoot)

.

he wrote back about how much he missed her
how much he missed home
how much he missed their trips to chicago
forehead pressed against aquarium glass
and if they would ever go again

.

she thought her baby came back 

.

she dressed her best
she made his bed
loaded his little brother and half-sister in the car
to rip down the empty plain freeway

.

to take him back where he belonged
his halo flickering back to life,
she felt it. his sobbing head 
pressed against her chest

.

only to tell her that he didn't want to go
because there was a change of plans 
he and his new facility girlfriend were sober now
and they had everything figured out:

.

greyhound to chicago, stay in a motel,
then in an apartment. finish his GED, 
then get a job. it was all simple, really.

.

she saw the eyes of her father, her uncle, her brother
halos thrown to the ground
shattered like her grandmother's dinner plates

.

you can't go to chicago
and he asks why
you just can't go to chicago
and he asks why

.

you think you're sober?
a six-week program doesn't make you sober
it barely keeps you alive.
sobriety is work

.

it takes years and years and years
and it can go away just like that.
you need structure. and you're not going to get that
running off somewhere else. you're going to get that
back at home.
so get in the car.

.

there were tears. there was screaming.
there was her skin and blood
underneath the girl’s fingernails.
that thanksgiving fight to get him committed
suddenly seemed insignificant.

.

and as he sobbed in the back seat
on the way back to minnesota,
she thought about halos. their light.
if they could ever be mended. or feigned. or found.
if you can get high on one. on your own or others'.
whether it was time to give up on them. or hope.

his mother said he was born with a halo on his head
stuck underneath the dark curls of his hair
but he lost it along the way

.

maybe when he fell out of the trees that he climbed
or when his stepdad came into the picture

.

now he's at a treatment home in south dakota
weaning himself off his arrogance and crystal

.

she showed me all of her favorite pictures of him
but she sent him the best one in the mail
(one from their post-labor photoshoot)

.

he wrote back about how much he missed her
how much he missed home
how much he missed their trips to chicago
forehead pressed against aquarium glass
and if they would ever go again

.

she thought her baby came back 

.

she dressed her best
she made his bed
loaded his little brother and half-sister in the car
to rip down the empty plain freeway

.

to take him back where he belonged
his halo flickering back to life,
she felt it. his sobbing head 
pressed against her chest

.

only to tell her that he didn't want to go
because there was a change of plans 
he and his new facility girlfriend were sober now
and they had everything figured out:

.

greyhound to chicago, stay in a motel,
then in an apartment. finish his GED, 
then get a job. it was all simple, really.

.

she saw the eyes of her father, her uncle, her brother
halos thrown to the ground
shattered like her grandmother's dinner plates

.

you can't go to chicago
and he asks why
you just can't go to chicago
and he asks why

.

you think you're sober?
a six-week program doesn't make you sober
it barely keeps you alive.
sobriety is work

.

it takes years and years and years
and it can go away just like that.
you need structure. and you're not going to get that
running off somewhere else. you're going to get that
back at home.
so get in the car.

.

there were tears. there was screaming.
there was her skin and blood
underneath the girl’s fingernails.
that thanksgiving fight to get him committed
suddenly seemed insignificant.

.

and as he sobbed in the back seat
on the way back to minnesota,
she thought about halos. their light.
if they could ever be mended. or feigned. or found.
if you can get high on one. on your own or others'.
whether it was time to give up on them. or hope.

his mother said he was born with a halo on his head
stuck underneath the dark curls of his hair
but he lost it along the way

.

maybe when he fell out of the trees that he climbed
or when his stepdad came into the picture

.

now he's at a treatment home in south dakota
weaning himself off his arrogance and crystal

.

she showed me all of her favorite pictures of him
but she sent him the best one in the mail
(one from their post-labor photoshoot)

.

he wrote back about how much he missed her
how much he missed home
how much he missed their trips to chicago
forehead pressed against aquarium glass
and if they would ever go again

.

she thought her baby came back 

.

she dressed her best
she made his bed
loaded his little brother and half-sister in the car
to rip down the empty plain freeway

.

to take him back where he belonged
his halo flickering back to life,
she felt it. his sobbing head 
pressed against her chest

.

only to tell her that he didn't want to go
because there was a change of plans 
he and his new facility girlfriend were sober now
and they had everything figured out:

.

greyhound to chicago, stay in a motel,
then in an apartment. finish his GED, 
then get a job. it was all simple, really.

.

she saw the eyes of her father, her uncle, her brother
halos thrown to the ground
shattered like her grandmother's dinner plates

.

you can't go to chicago
and he asks why
you just can't go to chicago
and he asks why

.

you think you're sober?
a six-week program doesn't make you sober
it barely keeps you alive.
sobriety is work

.

it takes years and years and years
and it can go away just like that.
you need structure. and you're not going to get that
running off somewhere else. you're going to get that
back at home.
so get in the car.

.

there were tears. there was screaming.
there was her skin and blood
underneath the girl’s fingernails.
that thanksgiving fight to get him committed
suddenly seemed insignificant.

.

and as he sobbed in the back seat
on the way back to minnesota,
she thought about halos. their light.
if they could ever be mended. or feigned. or found.
if you can get high on one. on your own or others'.
whether it was time to give up on them. or hope.

his mother said he was born with a halo on his head
stuck underneath the dark curls of his hair
but he lost it along the way

.

maybe when he fell out of the trees that he climbed
or when his stepdad came into the picture

.

now he's at a treatment home in south dakota
weaning himself off his arrogance and crystal

.

she showed me all of her favorite pictures of him
but she sent him the best one in the mail
(one from their post-labor photoshoot)

.

he wrote back about how much he missed her
how much he missed home
how much he missed their trips to chicago
forehead pressed against aquarium glass
and if they would ever go again

.

she thought her baby came back 

.

she dressed her best
she made his bed
loaded his little brother and half-sister in the car
to rip down the empty plain freeway

.

to take him back where he belonged
his halo flickering back to life,
she felt it. his sobbing head 
pressed against her chest

.

only to tell her that he didn't want to go
because there was a change of plans 
he and his new facility girlfriend were sober now
and they had everything figured out:

.

greyhound to chicago, stay in a motel,
then in an apartment. finish his GED, 
then get a job. it was all simple, really.

.

she saw the eyes of her father, her uncle, her brother
halos thrown to the ground
shattered like her grandmother's dinner plates

.

you can't go to chicago
and he asks why
you just can't go to chicago
and he asks why

.

you think you're sober?
a six-week program doesn't make you sober
it barely keeps you alive.
sobriety is work

.

it takes years and years and years
and it can go away just like that.
you need structure. and you're not going to get that
running off somewhere else. you're going to get that
back at home.
so get in the car.

.

there were tears. there was screaming.
there was her skin and blood
underneath the girl’s fingernails.
that thanksgiving fight to get him committed
suddenly seemed insignificant.

.

and as he sobbed in the back seat
on the way back to minnesota,
she thought about halos. their light.
if they could ever be mended. or feigned. or found.
if you can get high on one. on your own or others'.
whether it was time to give up on them. or hope.

his mother said he was born with a halo on his head
stuck underneath the dark curls of his hair
but he lost it along the way

.

maybe when he fell out of the trees that he climbed
or when his stepdad came into the picture

.

now he's at a treatment home in south dakota
weaning himself off his arrogance and crystal

.

she showed me all of her favorite pictures of him
but she sent him the best one in the mail
(one from their post-labor photoshoot)

.

he wrote back about how much he missed her
how much he missed home
how much he missed their trips to chicago
forehead pressed against aquarium glass
and if they would ever go again

.

she thought her baby came back 

.

she dressed her best
she made his bed
loaded his little brother and half-sister in the car
to rip down the empty plain freeway

.

to take him back where he belonged
his halo flickering back to life,
she felt it. his sobbing head 
pressed against her chest

.

only to tell her that he didn't want to go
because there was a change of plans 
he and his new facility girlfriend were sober now
and they had everything figured out:

.

greyhound to chicago, stay in a motel,
then in an apartment. finish his GED, 
then get a job. it was all simple, really.

.

she saw the eyes of her father, her uncle, her brother
halos thrown to the ground
shattered like her grandmother's dinner plates

.

you can't go to chicago
and he asks why
you just can't go to chicago
and he asks why

.

you think you're sober?
a six-week program doesn't make you sober
it barely keeps you alive.
sobriety is work

.

it takes years and years and years
and it can go away just like that.
you need structure. and you're not going to get that
running off somewhere else. you're going to get that
back at home.
so get in the car.

.

there were tears. there was screaming.
there was her skin and blood
underneath the girl’s fingernails.
that thanksgiving fight to get him committed
suddenly seemed insignificant.

.

and as he sobbed in the back seat
on the way back to minnesota,
she thought about halos. their light.
if they could ever be mended. or feigned. or found.
if you can get high on one. on your own or others'.
whether it was time to give up on them. or hope.

________________________________

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1thz8c5/comment/omqvuas/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1thytl8/comment/omr0gz3/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

If you're a double major and each major is in a different department... where do you sit? Do you walk the stage twice?

it’s funny what things come to mind in this moment:

.

high school crushes. your last summer vacation.
how you could've been nicer to your little brother,
pushed a little harder.

.

how things would be different
if you had it your way.

.

but this was always meant to be,

.

hearing the fates cock their deer rifle.
don’t stop.
don’t look back.

.

look out for the branches, the stones, the roots
that scratch and cut and scab your skin,

.

not the scar tissue, the heartbreak
from each round over the years,

.

even if it hurts like hell;

.

who’s going to hold you
when all of this ends?

.

it's human to cave in,
to turn around, craving
protection. craving surrender,
to be put out of your goddamn misery.

.

the sound of a trigger pulled 
the bullet whistles past and
hits your buck friend.

.

you see yourself in him.
beautiful creature,
twitching and losing life
with each second that passes.

.

please
come on
you got this
get up

.

get on your knees to help out 
until you feel a fresh shot in your shoulder.

.

they're gaining
gaining
gaining

.

they’re coming
coming
coming

.

you're taking
taking
taking

.

too long.

.

collapsed in dirt.
maybe this time
there will be a savior.

.

vision blurs
wounds burn
more
reminding you that although you wish,
you are not a helpless animal.

.

you are a survivor.
so, better get back up,
even if it hurts like hell.
because no one's going to save you.

it’s funny what things come to mind in this moment:

.

high school crushes. your last summer vacation.
how you could've been nicer to your little brother,
pushed a little harder.

.

how things would be different
if you had it your way.

.

but this was always meant to be,

.

hearing the fates cock their deer rifle.
don’t stop.
don’t look back.

.

look out for the branches, the stones, the roots
that scratch and cut and scab your skin,

.

not the scar tissue, the heartbreak
from each round over the years,

.

even if it hurts like hell;

.

who’s going to hold you
when all of this ends?

.

it's human to cave in,
to turn around, craving
protection. craving surrender,
to be put out of your goddamn misery.

.

the sound of a trigger pulled 
the bullet whistles past and
hits your buck friend.

.

you see yourself in him.
beautiful creature,
twitching and losing life
with each second that passes.

.

please
come on
you got this
get up

.

get on your knees to help out 
until you feel a fresh shot in your shoulder.

.

they're gaining
gaining
gaining

.

they’re coming
coming
coming

.

you're taking
taking
taking

.

too long.

.

collapsed in dirt.
maybe this time
there will be a savior.

.

vision blurs
wounds burn
more
reminding you that although you wish,
you are not a helpless animal.

.

you are a survivor.
so, better get back up,
even if it hurts like hell.
because no one's going to save you.

it’s funny what things come to mind in this moment:

.

high school crushes. your last summer vacation.
how you could've been nicer to your little brother,
pushed a little harder.

.

how things would be different
if you had it your way.

.

but this was always meant to be,

.

hearing the fates cock their deer rifle.
don’t stop.
don’t look back.

.

look out for the branches, the stones, the roots
that scratch and cut and scab your skin,

.

not the scar tissue, the heartbreak
from each round over the years,

.

even if it hurts like hell;

.

who’s going to hold you
when all of this ends?

.

it's human to cave in,
to turn around, craving
protection. craving surrender,
to be put out of your goddamn misery.

.

the sound of a trigger pulled 
the bullet whistles past and
hits your buck friend.

.

you see yourself in him.
beautiful creature,
twitching and losing life
with each second that passes.

.

please
come on
you got this
get up

.

get on your knees to help out 
until you feel a fresh shot in your shoulder.

.

they're gaining
gaining
gaining

.

they’re coming
coming
coming

.

you're taking
taking
taking

.

too long.

.

collapsed in dirt.
maybe this time
there will be a savior.

.

vision blurs
wounds burn
more
reminding you that although you wish,
you are not a helpless animal.

.

you are a survivor.
so, better get back up,
even if it hurts like hell.
because no one's going to save you.

it’s funny what things come to mind in this moment:

.

high school crushes. your last summer vacation.
how you could've been nicer to your little brother,
pushed a little harder.

.

how things would be different
if you had it your way.

.

but this was always meant to be,

.

hearing the fates cock their deer rifle.
don’t stop.
don’t look back.

.

look out for the branches, the stones, the roots
that scratch and cut and scab your skin,

.

not the scar tissue, the heartbreak
from each round over the years,

.

even if it hurts like hell;

.

who’s going to hold you
when all of this ends?

.

it's human to cave in,
to turn around, craving
protection. craving surrender,
to be put out of your goddamn misery.

.

the sound of a trigger pulled 
the bullet whistles past and
hits your buck friend.

.

you see yourself in him.
beautiful creature,
twitching and losing life
with each second that passes.

.

please
come on
you got this
get up

.

get on your knees to help out 
until you feel a fresh shot in your shoulder.

.

they're gaining
gaining
gaining

.

they’re coming
coming
coming

.

you're taking
taking
taking

.

too long.

.

collapsed in dirt.
maybe this time
there will be a savior.

.

vision blurs
wounds burn
more
reminding you that although you wish,
you are not a helpless animal.

.

you are a survivor.
so, better get back up,
even if it hurts like hell.
because no one's going to save you.

it’s funny what things come to mind in this moment:

.

high school crushes. your last summer vacation.
how you could've been nicer to your little brother,
pushed a little harder.

.

how things would be different
if you had it your way.

.

but this was always meant to be,

.

hearing the fates cock their deer rifle.
don’t stop.
don’t look back.

.

look out for the branches, the stones, the roots
that scratch and cut and scab your skin,

.

not the scar tissue, the heartbreak
from each round over the years,

.

even if it hurts like hell;

.

who’s going to hold you
when all of this ends?

.

it's human to cave in,
to turn around, craving
protection. craving surrender,
to be put out of your goddamn misery.

.

the sound of a trigger pulled 
the bullet whistles past and
hits your buck friend.

.

you see yourself in him.
beautiful creature,
twitching and losing life
with each second that passes.

.

please
come on
you got this
get up

.

get on your knees to help out 
until you feel a fresh shot in your shoulder.

.

they're gaining
gaining
gaining

.

they’re coming
coming
coming

.

you're taking
taking
taking

.

too long.

.

collapsed in dirt.
maybe this time
there will be a savior.

.

vision blurs
wounds burn
more
reminding you that although you wish,
you are not a helpless animal.

.

you are a survivor.
so, better get back up,
even if it hurts like hell.
because no one's going to save you.

________________________________

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1t3xk84/comment/ojz2shg/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

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it’s funny what things come to mind in this moment:

.

high school crushes. your last summer vacation.
how you could've been nicer to your little brother,
pushed a little harder.

.

how things would be different
if you had it your way.

.

but this was always meant to be,

.

hearing the fates cock their deer rifle.
don’t stop.
don’t look back.

.

look out for the branches, the stones, the roots
that scratch and cut and scab your skin,

.

not the scar tissue, the heartbreak
from each round over the years,

.

even if it hurts like hell;

.

who’s going to hold you
when all of this ends?

.

it's human to cave in,
to turn around, craving
protection. craving surrender,
to be put out of your goddamn misery.

.

the sound of a trigger pulled 
the bullet whistles past and
hits your buck friend.

.

you see yourself in him.
beautiful creature,
twitching and losing life
with each second that passes.

.

please
come on
you got this
get up

.

get on your knees to help out 
until you feel a fresh shot in your shoulder.

.

they're gaining
gaining
gaining

.

they’re coming
coming
coming

.

you're taking
taking
taking

.

too long.

.

collapsed in dirt.
maybe this time
there will be a savior.

.

vision blurs
wounds burn
more
reminding you that although you wish,
you are not a helpless animal.

.

you are a survivor.
so, better get back up,
even if it hurts like hell.
because no one's going to save you.

my eyes are not your eyes
my hands are not your hands
my heart is not your heart

.

you see his eyes
while i see stars
you touch skin
while i touch topographies
you kiss the mouth
while i don't leave an inch 
intact

.

because we're different women
not that i'm better
just
no two people can love the same
right?

.

what i feel
when his laugh sends arrows through my heart
you can never feel
and i’m glad

my eyes are not your eyes
my hands are not your hands
my heart is not your heart

.

you see his eyes
while i see stars
you touch skin
while i touch topographies
you kiss the mouth
while i don't leave an inch 
intact

.

because we're different women
not that i'm better
just
no two people can love the same
right?

.

what i feel
when his laugh sends arrows through my heart
you can never feel
and i’m glad

_________________

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1t0x7mk/comment/ojcfb0g/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

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my eyes are not your eyes
my hands are not your hands
my heart is not your heart

.

you see his eyes
while i see stars
you touch skin
while i touch topographies
you kiss the mouth
while i don't leave an inch 
intact

.

because we're different women
not that i'm better
just
no two people can love the same
right?

.

what i feel
when his laugh sends arrows through my heart
you can never feel
and i’m glad

my eyes are not your eyes
my hands are not your hands
my heart is not your heart

.

you see his eyes
while i see stars
you touch skin
while i touch topographies
you kiss the mouth
while i don't leave an inch 
intact

.

because we're different women
not that i'm better
just
no two people can love the same
right?

.

what i feel
when his laugh sends arrows through my heart
you can never feel
and i’m glad

my eyes are not your eyes
my hands are not your hands
my heart is not your heart

.

you see his eyes
while i see stars
you touch skin
while i touch topographies
you kiss the mouth
while i don't leave an inch 
intact

.

because we're different women
not that i'm better
just
no two people can love the same
right?

.

what i feel
when his laugh sends arrows through my heart
you can never feel
and i’m glad

my eyes are not your eyes
my hands are not your hands
my heart is not your heart

.

you see his eyes
while i see stars
you touch skin
while i touch topographies
you kiss the mouth
while i don't leave an inch 
intact

.

because we're different women
not that i'm better
just
no two people can love the same
right?

.

what i feel
when his laugh sends arrows through my heart
you can never feel
and i’m glad