The flick of a lighter
brought us together
as something more
than friends.

We smoked because
we wanted a reason
to act stupid.
I wanted a reason
to text you,
telling you
how cute you looked,
and how much
I liked you.

I think you smoked
so that when
you deleted
all the text messages,
you would never
remember them.

We were sad,
so we became
fingertips
stained with stale smoke.
We became
nervous quirks and
bellyaches
whenever we went to sleep
on our stomachs.
We became more
than just four people
in a small room with
bedsheets as walls -
We became much more
than water boiling on a
***** stove in a
dark kitchen
we
were
alive