He Was A Brother
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
