on the last day of september
my bones
aching in my skin
i can't help but feel
that i have lost
much more than i gave

i'll never get back what i gave
to 3am

we lit up
on the flame of one another's company
the smoke doused us in laughter
and the sky
was big enough,
just for a little while

we were infinite:
more terrified of blinking
than being too small

chewing on black holes
just to pass the time

leaving a fingerprint
with no identity attached

but the black holes got sour
and we spit them out
with the stray embers
caught on our bitter tongues

we buried the cigarettes in the dirt,
footprints their only grave marker

don't ask me
how i'm doing
ask me
what i'm listening to

you didn’t set up your voicemail box like i awkwardly texted you to at 11:48pm last month (so i could leave you awkward voicemails)
and you don’t call me back this late at night
(because somehow you're still afraid that i will be asleep)
but i’ll keep one headphone out
just in case the phone rings

symptoms include:
brushing my teeth in the middle of the day
wearing my pajamas three days in a row
failing classes i understand
listening to regina spektor's old albums on repeat
wearing your flannel to sleep
talking to myself, forgetting you aren't around

fatality rate:
high

recommended:
a soft kiss on the lips at two am
as we fall asleep
talking about committing arson