We were all wearing party hats,
Fingers stained with cigarette smoke and cheap wine
And I wanted to live in a way that made me feel alive.
Sometimes, all I want to do is chew on your shoulder
It is made of cinnamon
And cloves
And ginger
And probably none of those things,
But your heart is golden.
I have nickel feet
As we walk home, arms linked
The four of us through half-lit streets
We become fruit bats, “straight to bed, no snacks”
But first, the highlights
Sitting under a table with a boy,
Slow dancing in a smoke filled room
Kissing a wolverine-boy
The sparkler bomb that burnt my fingers
And the dogs that chased us back inside
These dogs are chasing me across my skin
They pull you along
I am the snow plains, and some days
I fall so heavy you can write your name onto me
Wave your arms and create angels
We sit on the floor of the kitchen
“Not straight to bed, and all the snacks”
Those angels you drew, they sing to me
About all the things that make me happy
Like socks and rainy days and wasps nests and balloons
And you
You make me happy
And these angels find songs for all these things
And remind me what it’s like to write with joy.
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