last summer
I met a boy of 6 feet tall
he is two years older than me
he listens to punk rock
has an alcoholic father,
and his kisses
are sweeter than honey
and softer than silk
we spent countless, long, dreamy
cold, rainy, humid
nights
in my backyard
with the smell of too much hairspray
which I can not bring myself to smell again
and mosquito spray which I never apply anymore
11pm
4am
the hours passed by like minutes, seconds
under the stars
telling secrets
I was scared
scared of losing him
even though he was already lost
fading
disapearing
slowly and then all at once
hallways
silence
stares
me alone
him and her
11pm
4am
hours seem like eternitys, milleniums
crying
flashbacks
thinking about the us that will never be
blood spills on the paper
spelling out your words, promises
do I even cross his mind
maybe probably not no
I'm sorry I wasn't
skinny
pretty
funny
admirable
good
enough
I'm sorry
we didn't even say goodbye
goodbye, Brandan
this is a letter that will never be sent