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Sep 2014
Cracking sunflower seeds between rigid teeth
Swigging beers through pursed lips
Inhaling menthol cigarettes with tired lungs and a tight rib cage
          I'm left not knowing the difference between your exhales and sighs
I could say that times like these will brand my memory forever
Salt and shells will never taste the same
          my teeth are left weak from clenching when you're in pain
Alcohol will never completely flow through
          my inebriation is always accompanied by you
Cigarettes still consume me and nearly smother
          as you're asking to *** one, and I'm lighting one off the other
I could tell you when small talks lead to deep moments littered with empty bags and condensation, that I am the happiest I have ever been.
I could tell you these things when there was us.
Picking and choosing which seeds to take from the same pile, fingers interlaced, losing count of drinks and who gave the last smoke to who...
But here we are and us is lost
          our night ends when there are no more smokes to share
Menthol still burns through most of our air
          our drunkeness calls for sleep and warm clothes
We'll both get sick and keep the other close
          our appetites and muddled minds both soothed and still
Eating and conversation so easily a thrill
My mind is numb from how these moments keep recurring
          I know you're hiding sighs inside of exhaling smoke
Us meant that I could soothe that stammered breathing and those bruised ribs, because us meant you curling into me while you slept through it all
Us meant that it didn't matter how much we'd had to drink, because us meant the other would be there to make it all seem okay
Us meant that we could eat together, and smoke together, and sleep together, and love each other, and kiss, and smile, and laugh, and just be.
Us meant a lot of things, but us isn't what we are anymore.
It's just we.
We're still passing off sunflower seeds and just barely touching hands
We're still drinking from the same beer bottle
We're still sharing cigarettes
We're still catching the other smiling in our direction for no reason at all.
This poem is a mess much like my head and my heart.
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Written by
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511
   ryn
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