I turn up the volume on your favorite songs
in a stupid girl's hope that it will keep me
from thinking of you
and our dying habits.
Sundays in a golden caravan
with your hands in my hair.
Whispered secrets
and promises we both knew
would be broken one day.
What boy cares about those
when they're caught up in a girl?
You didn't- you made that clear
as we closed those doors behind us
until the next time we fell
clumsily, higher than those pretentious town stars
shining at midnight.
What boy cares about promises
when he only lives in the now?
Not you.
You told me you hated those things.
Swearing and promising words
unless it was dire, life or death.
I never understood why
until I really met you.
YOU ARE READING
Rays in the Dark
Short StoryA collection of stories and poems depicting people's lives as they struggle with love, mental illnesses, and the everyday battles that life throws their way.
