"oh my god, what are they?"
we peek through the drawn blinds
our noses smudging up against the window
"they look like..teenagers."
"oh god."
it's funny because we're both barely
adults ourselves, but we feel so much older now
and besides, the teenagers who were our friends
grew up with us
"what do we do?"
"i don't know. stay inside?"
"good plan."
YOU ARE READING
the inevitability of wrinkled bedsheets
Poetrythe life of two, shown in one ~a bunch of sappy lovey-dovey stuff that will probably make you vomit blood~
