"When I started saying, ‘My sober hurts,’
you started screaming, ‘Let’s become quicksand in reverse!’
We were the glass doors everyone kept running into,
trying to learn how to shatter without hurting someone.
We were the crime scenes
our loves swallowed chalk for.
We were the ‘I’ve got your back’
kiss and tell photograph
on a coffee table in house
full of crushed glass
from every ship in a bottle
we couldn’t stand not to break out”
No comments:
Post a Comment