Sitting in tired classrooms at the edge of everything, teetering on the precipice with coffee cups hidden between our thighs; taking secret sips just to get by.
We cried ourselves to sleep last night but we're here now, staring mindlessly into rows of maroon chairs & tan desks.
We're dragging each other from Monday through Friday with empathetic sighs & bummed cigarettes.
We're aching for the weekend so that we can drown our insides until we drown the memory of this place.
We're racing up the same road that has carried us home, five days a week for the past four years.
We left our childhood kicking up dust, as it chased behind us at fourteen.
We buried him on a cold February afternoon but didn't accept that he was gone until mid June.
She was crushed under the weight of metal slamming cold, hard steel on a windy road with the April rain pouring through shattered glass.
Casket closed and our sixteen year old eyes wired open.
He flatlined on his living room floor & I only spoke in ball point pens all summer long.
But we're older now & we're eager to find pain in different faces.
Well, you can find me in the city, writing nostalgic poems on the back of every photograph we took in the suburbs.
You can find me counting street lights, on my back where I used to count stars in your arms.