cranes that could be mistaken for notes

My brother’s voice is muffled and half-heartedly interrupting my sphere of sound, the cracked resonance of my sonical understanding. He’s yelling across the length of my house to my mother. “Did you know how much this belt cost? It only cost…it only cost $10 . It only cost $10!” I’m imagining him waving it enthusiastically in his hands, the leather doubled up and bent. Strands of techno weave in and out of his excited tapestry of voice and intent. the room is muggy and i’m slimy with sweat, and none of this is of any matter to me, nothing, because i was only yours for 4 days, and the bed i’m lying in is not yours, i’m just jigsaw pieces that have been upset from a box, i am shattered and porcelain. hard. i was broken the moment you destroyed me with those eyes that have the exact same colour as mine but a different shape. flitting across my face and to the back of the room.

my brother’s voice is drifting across my bed, and he’s waving a length of leather excitedly in his hands. you both share the same name and have the same colour hair. “i got this belt for $10” he’s saying, but i can’t quite focus on his face- when i look at him i see a mirror, while when i looked at you i saw the world.