you are a diamond and there is a speck of eyeliner winged out and smudged on your cheekbone.
even diamonds have flaws.
we are driving down a narrow highway onto a bridge and you snort when you laugh. i'm dreaming because i don't think real life has an 8mm film reel collecting all the times we felt like we were flying. when we felt like we were in a movie and we were heroes. we were royalty and when you smile, it feels like heaven. it feels like all the gold in the world has been poured into my veins, it feels like good drugs and good friends and a good life.
i have sunglasses on my face and a thin tan line on my shoulder blade and your freckles dot your eyes more than any alphabet, a play on words, witty banter, your solid, subtle smile with parentheses near your cheeks.
when i think of you, i think of cherry chapstick, a whole pizza to ourselves, and your glasses. i think of hope and fate and destiny and love, not the kind of love we hear thrown around during friday night football, but the kind of love that doesn't burn out. the kind of love that resembles crystal and fun times and the things that quiet poets write about after they drink ***** for the first time. the love that keeps its infinities hidden under its sleeves, like the pen ink on your arms under your sweater.
i think of flowers and cigarettes and laughing and smoking and crossing everything off of our bucket lists, running to little rivers and giving new life to old constellations, telling prophets our stories; we became royalty, we became the night that our friends dreamed of.
When I think of her, everything is good.