almost by Anyssa Kim
almostAnyssa Kim
I could paint him a thousand times and still never know his skin
at his age I couldn't have appreciated the singular beauty of such angles
I could cross his path every day and yet he'd never see
the television at home entertains an empty chamber
digital marionettes with eyes follow closely, accusing across the room back and forth the remote remains untouched back and forth and back
they mock happy ending after happy ending, happily ever after
I sit, alone, flat on the opposite side of the set watch the clock as the future arrives in spasms
I remember his jaw sharp as his
tipped nose pensive, at the rumble beneath his worn loafers
remembering, relieving myself of those still images, so many singulars haunting each moment