I watched you age from a distance, your skin

start to sag from your body, the creases

drawing lines on your forehead where heartache

was a timeline and nothing now but a visible memory.

Mine are starting to form but my eyes still show

a sadness that can only be defeated by time.

I watched your bones take shape and jut out

as sharp edged tables are hazards to children

and innocence, yours embrace the danger

of becoming child proof and censored.

I fall, but my bruises still tell a sad story

while yours turn brown, yellow, then heal.