Boy Anagram (update)

Velvety, gladsome weirdo detracts.

(The truth in anagrams is a bit scary).

Boy

I held him close,
in the disinfectant chill of the brisk ward.
Like a china plate, close to my face.
Breathed clean smells and wet sighs.

I helped him drink,
had my finger held tightly and milky burps
blown at me from a tiny distance.
Was stared at like a stranger.

I pretended he was my son,
fussed over his flat hair as
the hugest blue eyes focussed,
but only for a second.

Dusty water blues

Trying to get in, to being cut yet again, than smoothness shadow inwards.
His uneven like he did they’re still years, grey sky’s rolling again. Deeper valleys of raised skin from dusty water and swallowed can’t stop crying.
It’s takes years bad. The grey sky’s rolling yet again, the same ones can reach. Valleys of raised inwards.
The boy had woken drank some dusty water and he did every morning slowly towards me, trying to stop crying.
Today is getting worse; me, get this bad. They are the sun can reach. Unbroken sleep, drank some pills – crawling slowly towards years and lines, the same ones cut and boy had woken up every morning and I ate years to get this again. Lines are being cut deeper than the sun/skin and broken shadow up from his uneven sleep, swallowed the pills – like getting worse; they’re still crawling get in. And I can’t stop crying.