it was a dia de los muertos night, a skeleton’s party. hymns for Frida mingled with the humid curls on my head and your laugh was like magic: light and electric, shiny, trebled, unbroken. you danced off the curb, every street your own magnetic parade. and then there were the nights that tempted you into falling - a soft and quiet darkness, I imagined, that bandito who stole your happiness when your happiness was too much, too high.
I know what breaking feels like (desperate breathless please remove any sharps or knives) so I tried to form words that tried to make sense, I brought you gooey chain store donuts and a plastic friendship bracelet, its charm confetti'd and glittered like a shooting star you might have wished upon when you were little. Still you ached and you ached (you smiled anyway because you’re strong) but your aches and your aches, maybe they aren’t - maybe they're brittle like skeleton bones.