Everett, you're tired
of sleepless nights
aching lungs
girls who evaporate overnight.
You're tired of burnt Saturday evenings,
cars parked around dark corners,
staying out too late and
driving home on empty.
I would offer you a ride home,
but Everett, you make my mouth dry.
You smell like cigarettes and
look like all my mistakes.
I want to carry you, Everett,
and watch your scarred skin flush
at my touch, but I know
all too soon I’d be
carrying those same scars on my skin.
So I’ll cry with you
from the other side of the highway,
I’ll feel your albatross around my neck
and wish you the best,
but I won’t be there this time
when you decide to burn
everything that’s good to you.