The summer i was alone hasn't happened yet
But will happen in less than 24 hours. after the hail in the grass from today's tornado watch starts to melt
and
After the bones in my backyard are cleaned by decay
The summer i was alone was dry
frightening
empty
it gave me this feeling under my skin, like my muscle fibers were bomb fuses, lighting on fire and burning to their stubs
You'd think something like that would make you warm
But it burnt without leaving blisters; it was too close for comfort, too hot to have an absence of pain- my ribs were metal rods with high melting points, getting heat conduction, radiating and lighting orange
like the lightning bugs that kept me company in the late nights
The summer I was alone
i didn't know what a friend was
and haven't since i was 10 and she shoved her tongue into gaping wound of a mouth
My sins were my company, much like the riptides of feeling i was cursed with at a young age
Every day was TV static
I even watched my plants grow and leave me behind, budding new branches and flowers, propagating, becoming something, thriving on dirt and grime
but the summer i was alone, i couldn't even do that- not even with the dirt and grime
Not even with my dogs, or the music notes that moved me,
or the iron nails driving into the rods in my body at an attempt to fix me, make me something with a whole spine
The summer i was alone
is unknown to me
because tomorrow is my last day of school
and for now i am in the present
and the heat hasn't started yet