Your eyes are an unspoken credence
pale crystallized flourishing spikes.
watching memories stolen-
crumble
like innocence.

8 turns 18
as you fall down the stairs
blinking.
in this delicate breathing
you are no less beautiful
than you were before.

societal depth as circumference
the skin is breaking
a tree branch,
carved into boxes.

vision is nothing without power.
the blistering force
of tornadoes invade the unconscious
rearranging what little is left.

for a moment-
nothing.

your lids drop.

I try to remember,

yes

it was me