remember that time you asked me why I thought I was getting everything wrong? every time I discovered anyone else, your voice echoed in the farthest corners of my mind. I don’t give myself the time to get them wrong because I had already done that with you. you, the boy with the solstice heart, the open-armed words and deadbolt teeth. you are the only one I want to get wrong.
You are full of my antonyms, boy, and I want to devour them all.
I wanted us to be the hurricane
that sends the neighbors running,
but you’re always the one who’s hiding
and I’m not the heart of the storm
without your streetlight eyes
making way for my car crash silhouette.
I miss your 90 proof words, but I’ve never been much of a drinker anyway.