I stood alone inside of forests
I was burning like an antidote.
My father’s opposite
he never did wrong
I never did right.
Childhood dreams of riding light ships to somewhere other than here.
Now adulting, I’m stuck on a pillow like a pea.
I haven’t done shit, he was right, I imagine his glee.
I saw a wolf drink mountain water.
Your name was yesterday
But I remembered you most today
Specifically, your glasses.
And that you were mad.
I fall in love with that stuff.
I’ll hold your hand
whether or not my vision is clouded.
I’ve met your friends
And I’m not too fond of them.
But if they are your friends
Then I suppose they are friends of mine.
Wilson Koewing is a writer from South Carolina. His work is forthcoming in Gargoyle, Literally Stories, Cowboy Jamboree, Slippage Lit, Sledgehammer Lit, The Mark, Reservoir Road, Rejection Letters and X-R-A-Y.
Write something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview.