Dime bags burned up in one bowl,
two **** rips to make your head spin
backs up against an old fence,
paint flaking off onto your beige sweater,
It seemed fitting that the last time we would be able to make love,
we had no where to go.
Instead we kissed under the stars,
in a strangers lawn,
and I knew without words
that I had already left your concerns.
I held you like a helium balloon,
cautiously,
knowing all too soon,
you would float away from me.
You will flock to the ocean,
where it is easier for you to breathe,
and eventually
I will retreat to the desert
where my bloods flows easier.
You were one of the people,
we all come across in our lives,
who mean so little
and so much
to us, all at once.
Your gorgeous freckles,
and the smell of cigarettes mixed with cologne,
will remind me of this summer,
and nights with no sleep,
anywhere we could find to be together.
I told myself I wouldn't write a poem about you,
spotted boy
but I can't fully accept what happened
without writing it down.
So thanks for all the nights you held me,
and all the kisses you gave me,
and all the times you made me feel good,
and all the times you made me laugh,
and thank you for making this summer so much brighter
with your big smile and your big blue eyes
and of course,
those gorgeous freckles.