writing in red pen
and blowing smoke through my head
Regina Spektor plays in my room

hey remember that time
we were spinning under pictures
remember that time i touched
your knees on that red patterned carpet
remember green lockers, rust, and catholic dust
remember molding clay and
all those times you'd run away

there are times i remember the stories in each scar
and decide to trace patterns in the stars
looking up, i get lost wondering

are we the only survivors
are your lungs just balloons full of bus fumes and regret
are your eyes crossed by love

remember
my hands tracing your pant seams
and barely touching your shoulder blades
i should have gone in the river that night
i learned to wade in bath water
but feared the drain was full of snakes

i want to wait to give you all my love
but i fear it is too late