It is a Friday night and we're driving to your house with the windows down.

the ashes from the cigarette im pretending to smoke are flying into my eyes like this Marlboro light knows it's succeeded and I'm inhaling because it reminds me of men's mouths.

Your ****** stereo system is playing our favorite song and I'm watching the wind ripple through your hair as if your curls are party streamers, you've always projected an image of unrelenting freedom I can't remember ever seeing from another animal.

Maybe it's because you know how it feels to wake up in wire cages, and then discover one Tuesday  you have wings.

I grab your hand because I'm half convinced I manifested you in my brain one night when I needed someone like you. There's still a chance you'll disappear .

"You know you're my ride or die"

The first girl who spoke those words to me said it while we both had baby blue smoke swimming around in our blood stream.

When I told her I loved her I meant it
But I left her in the wind to fend for herself while I went and washed out the purple in my veins with suboxine and a boy.

I can't find her now.

I look at you with only red blood pumping these days, a dash of ethanol but we all have our vices.

And I try to solemnly silently swear to you through the sweat on my palms that I won't leave you alone .

And this time I mean it.

I'm sorry I'm ******* you and sometimes I half listen and expect you to fully fix me

But I've never been unjudged and overly loved by someone who doesn't want me tangible.

I'm still trying to find space to put all of who you are to me  in safe dry places.