the story so far

when you had a brother
but not of flesh and blood
then you lost them fully
in the muck of anger's mud
those years of friendship feel
like lessons on your brow
sweat collecting on the edge;
snow scattered from a bough.

there is no future present
where we could fully speak
the work it'd take to surface?
the pressure makes me weak.

but I wonder and I hope
that he remembers me
in the same fraternal light:
the anger dim in memory.