boys

sitting on the ledge of your bed frame
pixelations piercing our eyes
fingers molded to the cheap plastic
too young to leave, but too old to stay

here
just two boys
playing games
one last time
before

you slipped from the tree that took your life
held up by a noose of nature
swinging like a festive piñata
decorated neck in blue hues

my
only friend
taken by
his own laugh

just a boy
playing games
one last time
then, "goodbye"

you taught me how to keep my cold hands warm
when the chill of winter’s too much
just slip my hands inside of my pockets
and they will feel better with time

we
die as boys
in the end,
died as boys