it was practically a road trip - one hour there, one hour back, just to see me every week.
when you'd come to my house and have dinner with my family, i felt normal - isn't this what most teenagers do? teasing and winking and spilling ketchup on the patio - blood red sticking to stone.
when i'd go to your place, there would be sun in my eyes until we reached the cool of the basement. we played video games and didn't eat and drifted in the empty parking lot - isn't this how most girls feel? unbothered and unsure and wishing for your word - irises sticking to silhouettes.
when you'd bring me home, i would hope for the hour to last forever, that playlist to never end. isn't this how it should be? you and me and no one else - sticking to one another.