there was a time of purity and innocence before all of this, cherry blossom lips had yet to smoke Marlboro 27’s and know the taste of the drugs he had taken that night.
we fall into the same patterns, boys with long hair and addiction problems that we wish we couldn’t relate to.
they put their clothes on the same way, forget to kiss you goodbye the same way. they feel broken, unsolvable (unfixable). we want to fix them, solve them like a jumbled up jigsaw puzzle. write shitty poetry about them to burn, hoping they’ll smell the fire
and come running to rescue us…
until we realize, we are them, too.
we’re addicted to the pain. we become emotionally unavailable,a game of cat and mouse that maybe we don’t want to win. and we stay clueless, until we realize, we don’t kiss the other boys goodbye.