you asked me about how i was to be remembered
conversations about death are more comforting
than a cold hug on the night he died
i said i wanted to be forgotten
gone with the wind,
lost in the coyotes solemn song.
you paused,
if for but a half moment
and you asked
can i remember you?
the corners of my eyes stung with salt
a rim of mourning
for someone who had not yet died.
you,
ever so perfect you,
you wanted to remember me.
yeah. you can remember me.
voice of tears,
heart of salt,
eyes of onyx,
and blood from the creek.
you would remember me.
-icarus
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an idiots guide to life; how to survive the badlands of wyoming
Poetrythe slightly deranged ramblings of a teenage trans guy living in wyoming there's no overarching theme but there sure is a lot of dogs, horses, and god(s) . i do not know what i am talking about 97% of the time mostly posted chronologically in order...
