5:58 pm.
The tortures of the week
are bookended at last.
The sun has gone to slumber
Hoodie zipped and a layer
Of crimson lipstick;
I am out the door.
6:15 pm.
Numb hands clutch each other like lovers
there's a wind that snips like scissors
The train is late.
I wait.
Just another weekend, anyway.
6:17 pm.
Warm breath gushes from an open mouthed train
I step inside.
Bottles clink at cold feet as my bag is lain.
6:20 pm.
The train stops.
Shudders.
6:22 pm.
It's moving again.
7:00 pm.
Miles from home
I've entered my mini weekend world
That gnawing weekday feeling lifts from my chest at last
7:12 pm.
We walk, the six of us.
Up the hill,
Turn left.
And there's the woods.
7:14 pm.
"Does anyone know how to start a campfire?"
"I can't see a ****** thing."
7:45 pm.
Orange flames spit at the sky
Illuminating the branches above
A criss-cross mesh gives cover so little
To six cherry red cigarette ends.
8:32 pm.
The clinking bottles are
gone
thrown in a bush?
I think
I may
have drunk each
one. or more?
(Who knows)
I do.
8:45 pm.
I explore.
No one to guide
But five pale faces
moonlit and smiling and tripping on twigs
I finally feel I can join in their smiles, too.
9:01 pm.
I don't know these faces of moonlight all too well
But they're starting to feel like home.
10:32 pm.
A change of plan
We stagger though the door
Of her empty house.
I count 8 of us now,
I thank my lucky stars
I've spare clothes packed
And bask in the warmth
Of a new friend's house.
11:06 pm.
Sat on cramped carpet floor
I smile as the warmth fills my lungs
A buzzing high replaces faded intoxication
I pass it on
And am given a shoulder to rest upon.
(I'm so happy. Wow.)
11:48 pm.
My head is so fuzzy.
And the quiet boy from school
Sits across the room
Him and I
We're far more alike than I'd ever have known
And I'd never have known
If not for tonight.
1:15 am.
I never want this to end.
1:30 am.
She plays her hushed guitar
As I lie on her shoulder
She's so beautiful
I didn't know she could sing.
I wish she knew.
I sit back on the floor.
(She strums her guitar
And sings her last line
In a voice so **** quiet;
'Where is my mind?')
2:45am.
I never knew how different a film could be
Surrounded by friends
And high as the sky.
3:33 am.
I sleep.
5:02 am.
I wake.
The boy waves
From the side of the room
A silence not uncomfortable
It almost feels like June.
6:58 am.
I go to sleep once more.
And I'm happy.
I'm so happy.
At last.
A slightly longer poem I wrote about the most memorable day of when i was 17. What I thought to be just another weekend at first soon turned into one of the happiest, most peaceful nights of my life, and I'm not particularly sure why, but I hope I captured it relatively well.