this poem is called nebulous.

Your swollen heart is better 

i visit you almost every day

we just sit and watch nebulous clouds daring to dream,

exchanging stories of children who were us, and then, our own

waiting pool and other good ones

halfway through the house and your mother bought it on the spot

it was crazy tall

you were only 7, but already making full eulogies, and an overthinker's handbook

you're 18 now, and already flowering

your shadow lies as you move aside

going that way

on your bed, I'd like to draw it

stretched out with your chest

I know you want me there

but i'm still not sure

I never saw anything like you

in my lifetime

but I'm still 18, and barely remembering

how long it took to grow up

it's kind of nebulous to think about

so I just reposition myself so you fit 

and the same clouds now

are prepared for war

ready? aim, smile