air,
better with socks on;
nights
that still smell of bonfire —
it's sweet to know,
there is familiarity.
funny how,
the meanest of people
have cared sometimes;
the worst of times
have been so beautiful,
once in a while.
so easy to love,
so awkward,
so unseen,
often right
and
wrong for now —
i recognize
myself
over the years.
scared and lovely,
inauthentic
in the best way,
walking on the left
of a road
at sunset,
dancing
to the music
inside stores
and
hiding from people
in corners
and notebooks —
it's sweet to know,
there is still familiarity.
the stories
never align,
and there is always more
to sadness,
happiness
and love.
but here:
making shapes
of tissues,
forgetting directions,
laughing
to fill silences,
drawing waves
at the bottom
of ruled pages,
falling
for everyone;
the moon
still hazy with love
for the sun,
salty chips
and
thoughtless lip bites —
i know
i will always be here,
the same
and familiar.