He was a brother
I never had,
different than the others,
and he carried in his eyes
and on his arms
the tattoos
and scars
of being famous young,
he wore the face
of a star
but all I saw
was a poet
drowning
in someone else’s dreams
who wished only
to sink
into the quiet sea
or fade
into any painted wall of Brooklyn.
xx Atticus
@atticuspoetry)
www.atticuspoetry.com)
