Riley Carroll
I told him about the spots
on my hands
that I could see straight through.
I told him I believed
that I was dying.
I told him there are times
where I lose feeling
in my bones
like they are no longer there,
like I am no longer there
to carry my body.
I told him nothing
feels right
brushed against my fingers.
I told him my hands
are always throbbing.
I told him living
has become harder with age
when I know
I am lying.
And each time he has whispered:
let me wrap your future
In a veil of gold.
I am still amazed
by the weight of chains.