This one’s for the moon.
This one’s for the black rose pinned to her shirt.
This one is for speaking English to each other in two different languages.
We’re gonna get inked together, whether we like it or not.
I don’t personally like it that much.
I’m going to make sure that by the time your tattoo is done peeling, I will be gone again,
Midnightdriving down the freeway to my parent’s place.
They won’t understand, and they know they won’t, but they’ll try.
I guess this one’s for my parents, too.
They’ll tell me I’m “always welcome here” but even lying in my own basement I feel homesick.
There was some misunderstaking between the two of us.
As take another bite out of something wrapped up in Sonder and wish I could focus on just me?
It’s okay. Don’t forget to breathe.
This one’s for writing out of sheer ennui, listlesslassitude and bore-dumb
This one’s for learning new words, or making new words, or making new friends.
I don’t really miss you. The void you left in my life is, I’ll say it, actually really nice.
This one’s for me.