I got lost, and the only way that I could talk to God was through your songs

I used to sing in tune

Did you?

When I was a child, I prayed, and he felt like new wine fermenting inside of old age. I know that might not make sense, but he was a decade removed from all of his accomplishments, and he still had the eyes of a dreamer, and no one worshipped him as a demigod

I used to throw stones at his bedroom window, back before he threw stones at me

He’d climb out like clockwork after his parents had gone to sleep, and we’d sneak to the meadow up the street from their house in the mountains just east of the city. I loved it there. It was far enough away that the glow didn’t bleed into the show. He was so full of awe. We'd play connect the dots and make up constellations. I was wishing on the stars, but he’d lie down and look up and stare into the empty black between them until all the suns in his periphery blurred into one and he’d close them so tight to hold on to the spectrum and whisper, “I knew there was something more than black and white out there."

Don’t leave me

I know exactly how a window screen sounds popped out from its hinges. I used to be the one that you snuck out for. When we were younger I used to wonder what I’d do if I ever heard the bedsprings blend into the creaking of the frame bending blending into feet against the stucco, searching for the ground, and now I know

It happened in slow motion and I swear the second hand never made it a moment past my eyes closing before I heard our love collapse like lungs, guzzling up the ocean, salt soaking up everybody's condolences hoping / still willing to invite you back home and

And now I dream of the nights that you used to talk about fire and color and wonder if God is as real as the sunspots that you saw in his absence. I tried taping my eyelids shut to see him like you used to. I tried cutting my eyelids off to see him like I used to. I stitched the skin to skin to salvage whatever was left and then searched the sky for signs of life like there wasn't blood blurring into the vision

Is freedom abandonment? Is that why you abandoned me? Is freedom forgetfulness? I forget, I can't stop remembering when we were young, and you stayed, and you felt like old faith casked and too mature for your age. And I know it might not make sense, but he was a decade away from all of his accomplishments, and he still had the heart of a son, and no one worshipped him in the place of one

Will I ever be able to sing in your choir?
I can't hit the notes
I can't hit the notes
All I wanted was to sing in your choir
I used to sing in tune
Did you?

I threw up my prayers like incantations

I'd give anything to see the sky one last time