cc in soft light and dim violet filters

she tells me about her aesthetic, 
colorful slushies and skateboards, 
IM'ing friends and sun-bleached sidewalks, 
cramped doodles in bright pens in notebook margins, 
drawing on your hands as fake tattoos in neon
and arcades at late afternoon

but i'm something different, 
plaid overshirts and cactuses,
snow-damp walkways 
and the smell of burning rubber, 
paintball stains and paintball bruises,
arrows in the blue. 

i don't know how we fit together, 
a dance neither of us knows the steps to 
we're just running with this 
refusing to give up the ghost 
gripping life with both hands 

and shaking it until we get what we need

she taught me openness 
that my emotions are not invalid 
and i don't know 
i don't know about our differences

chemical smoke signals and sullen skies
but she is my voice and my ears
and i cry no more grievances into the morning clouds. 

The End

0 comments about this poem Feed