thrashcan

we never kissed, but you tasted sweet. like winter turns to spring, tiny buds on branches and just a Little Warmer, just a Little Longer. your aftertaste is bitter, like black coffee or oversteeped green tea. like sad songs at two am, like riding your bike down the street pretending that you're running away. like rain turning into snow, the absence of eye contact, laughing a little too loudly, like scratchy throats. video games until you can't keep your eyes open. like throwing yourself into textbooks. like unbalance, in every meaning of the word. like ripping off a scab. like relief. inhale, exhale, look at your hands and know who you ar