one week.

we have
o n e
w e e k
together
before he goes.

I'm helping him pack
in his room, looking at
his old figurines from
long ago, and I'm smiling
at the fact that most are
Star Wars and Barbie dolls.

but then I'm frowning again,
because he won't be with me
long and I might lose him.
I don't know what'd I'd do
if I lost him.

and then I hear a quiet sound
I can't quite place,
and look back at my golden boy
to see his eyes filled with tears,
his head in his arms,
his back heaving.
this kind of happens a lot, now.

so I fold my arms around him,
and,
tell him it'll be okay,
and,
try to convince myself that too.

if I lost him,
what would I do?

I'd probably melt,
from the raging fires in me, and
d r o w n.
or I would
pretend he never existed and
end up dying from the facade
that is too glued and plastered
onto my winter face,
and the cold would be contained,
and I'd freeze my brain,
or my eyes so that I'd be
forever looking at his memory.

no, I can't lose my
golden boy.