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.