#also yeqh this is what I can for the moment my brain's numb

[sunny-days-and-warm-mournings]

Old King, you have always been made of sun smiles and teeth.

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(Sorry to hear you laugh like ocean rage and sing like thunderstorms. Sorry to smell the ash on your fur and dried dropped cherries roasted beneath your eyes. Sorry to hope to have your cherry cheeks between these cruel, pitiful hands that snaps away like your dimples were bonfires and sorry to dream by the zenith of the sun. Sorry to have felt the dreadful, murderous point when you let your grins outshine the stars (were we alive like them, once?), to find the outlines of world maps across your palms and the inklings of constellations on your skin beneath steel furs.)

(Sorry, old thing, to have expected you to change at all.)

(There's a lot I could say to you, a confession drowned in aches and prayers, and I hope you Good Mornings and cozy dreams beside the hearth.)

— What I can drag from what's left of my mind, scattered like the tailbones of rats and the words that murdered me in my sleep (June 28, 2023)

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