i. To catch a boy in the wake of summer Leave out a cup Brimming with melon-colored milk tea and tapioca Make sure to capture his smile When he spills some on the counter
When it is still warm on the cheeks And independence has yet to be fully realized You catch a boy by offering him the futon Night after night after night after night You don’t think to ask your mom and He doesn’t seem to mind the basement stench But you overcompensate with your words anyway You’re good at that
Kesha plays like a hymn in the cathedral Of his boyfriend’s second car But you catch a boy with the menthol sound Of Cavetown at dusk in your hole of a bedroom And he sits on the bed and watches you paint As his notifications are piling up with passive-aggressive texts Summer tastes like lemon and cough drops
This is the first poem in a series titled "Cavetown wrote a song about your ex and we played it all summer long." The series is about the best summer of my life, although the poems may appear bleak upon first reading. It is about falling in love and the budding of a best friendship. About seeing and being seen.
The first time my lips touched a cigarette, I cringed at the taste but I ****** and puffed the toxins anyways. smooth. It was menthol. I didn't know what that meant. I didn't care. I just wanted to be cool with my friends. They were 14, I was 12. 'Mature for my age'. I had fitted in. But was smoking that cigarette really, really worth it? I haven't talked to those 'friends' in 6 years.