Unstretched: 9 Mm of Metal
I remind her of her best friend.
He died last year.
It amazes me how little metal is necessary
To kill a boy turned man too soon.
Only 9 mm.
She says my voice,
The way I move are one and the same as the way he once was.
I do not wish to be so relatable to the dead.
She looks at me sometimes
And I know she does not see my eyes,
Only his inscribed over my features.
Her face breaks on my laugh;
I echo his ghost and I don’t want to haunt her anymore.
She grows inward every day-
I try to show her the sun but all she sees are the clouds on the horizon.
She doesn’t sleep.
I teach myself her habits
So I can be with her at four in the morning
When she has finally fallen unconscious but the nightmare of his BANG!
Ricochets off from her memory and wakes her once more-
The blood spatter from his letter dissolving into her sheets,
Their bed.
It’s been a year:
So much time wasted over something as small as 9 mm of metal.
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