Huntington’s and You

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Your picture presented itself to me today,
While my hands were scuffling with the dark
The starlight pouring from my window,
Against which I hold your visage

’twas a winter evening, when I captured you;
In a frame. I’d never have you captured any other way, you know
It’s poetic justice when,
Cold memories continue giving warmth.
I hold your picture against my chest, imagining you running your fingers across my landscape ;
The way they used to dance on my canvas

You were sitting by the mantle, laughing at your own words,
Words that I don’t wish to pry and mould with my subjectivity
You were laughing hysterically, tugging at your hair at the same time
And your eyes were closed shut
What did you see that the world didn’t offer?

I fetched my easel and sheets, this was a moment that I wanted to snatch from the fangs of time and everything finite
You wouldn’t stop tugging your hair, you pulled a mass out too;
But your laughter grew louder by the second
Minutes trickling down like the sweat of my brow
You couldn’t stop laughing;
I wouldn’t stop drawing

Now I have you set like this. The only way I’d ever have you captured
Oblivious. Free. Happy.
Huntington’s may take you away this hour, and maybe it has;
But it can’t take away the cold, cold memories;
Which stir the coal in my fireplace

– A

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