Legend.

It took days
to open blinds
to face the sun
or walk before
any mirrored thing.

It took weeks
to speak,
to talk with others.
all I could hear were
the first whispers
then the maddening
screams,
and unraveling
of  our sacred thing.

We didn't raise white flags,
no branches
stretched out for the
sake of peace,
or ease,
or anything resembling
some distant part
of heaven.
in came the storms and
out went the legend.

It took months
to find a smile again,
though, faint,
whimsical
like a late night autumnal wind,
fleeting.
to find joy on this side of hell,
without you here,
without the touch of you near,
no smile to beat out the dark,
no peace to fight the fear.

It took years
to even know
that I was alive,
still here.
Even after all the relics had gone
away,
packed into boxes
with happiness
stuffed neath old shirts
and empty frames
dusty with
the filth and stench
of all the times
we raised
fists.
fists to fuck
fists to fight,
the coldness of all
the nights
we slept back to back.

Years to
repair my mind's eye
to see anything pleasant,
to know that you were really gone
and so was our
legend.

Jason Christopher Johnson
October 24, 2015