There was that time in the living room when I watched him die, his pale lips interrupted by a horrible shade of red, and I got so close
I could smell the cigarettes on his fading breath and everyone was yelling, but I was thinking that the road that ran past that living room was called Douglas Avenue and at 6 AM the garbage trucks speeding toward the dumps sound a lot like ambulances.
In the end, our skin never touched.
And then there was that time at the party when the boy with the wild eyes pulled out his knife, and it was such a big knife, and I thought
“this is where I end” as easily as if I had thought
“this is where I get off” and throughout the whole thing, my eyes on that knife like it was the last grain of sand in an hourglass
I could smell the cigarettes on his fading breath and everyone was yelling, but I was thinking that the road that ran past that living room was called Douglas Avenue and at 6 AM the garbage trucks speeding toward the dumps sound a lot like ambulances.
In the end, our skin never touched.
And then there was that time at the party when the boy with the wild eyes pulled out his knife, and it was such a big knife, and I thought
“this is where I end” as easily as if I had thought
“this is where I get off” and throughout the whole thing, my eyes on that knife like it was the last grain of sand in an hourglass