when it would rain

i used to pick up worms

that fled into the street

and place them in the grass.

did they have any names?

families too?

were they loved?

were they missed?

was the search party sent into the abyss?

i bleached my hair

so you wouldn’t recognize me

and the boy i used to be.

he died,

or so it seems.

my dog is older.

winds are getting colder.

the past is but a file locked in a folder,

yet i replay the details over and over.

so when you think of me

think how lucky you really are

that i don’t have it in my heart to be mean to you

when i have every right to be mean.

but instead i’m forgiving and willing to look past all the bad

and find comfort in the aftermath.