50

what does a painting sound like?

"ringing in my ears, and the taste of rain."
an old woman would whisper through her toothless mouth,
breathing in a foreign language i don't speak.

when i'm around people i can hear their bones shrinking away with age.
i can smell their deteriorating brain,
i can see their skin peeling, taste the tears they've shed,
for one hundred years of solitude,
one thousand vessels in their arms.

it scares me, you know?
makes me sick like winter,
feels like a bug
that accidentally flew through the crack of a museum window.
can't ever never ever ever leave.

but i have you,
and here!
here is the pretty sound of your young bones,
squeaking as they wrap around my cold shoulders.
our birthdays glowing pink in our bellies,
burning a two digit number through us when our mouths open.

yeah, i want you to know
that it's all ok when you're around;


but this only makes me miss you more.