I’m not sure if it did, I did not hear cracks.

As my head is pressed into the chest of a

brother I have not known love from,

pulling me into him as he cries a cry

I did not know

could come out of him.

“Bell, I am so sorry.

Fuck, I am so sorry.”

The only words that can come from my mouth are an all-encasing

“I know.”

I cry in his arms as mascara paints his pale chest.

A mural, a dance of our life-long hatred.

this moment, preserved in a jam jar.

McKenna says the world will end at 1:50

I wake up at 1:51.