We are now old enough to conceal.
Through cosmetic stores, aisles of lingerie,
We are destined to follow
The train tracks of the metropolis.
I have to run again.
Change my phone number, my zip code.
Buy a new license plate.
Did I tell you she’s on crystal meth?
And drinking herself to death?
I swallow. I take another shot. The lost words echo.
Remember when we couldn’t live
Without each other?
Remember when I danced to The Suburbs,
And not built lives of shame in them?
Vodka turns to gin.
Now, men give me flowers
I do not want in my hair
And hands I do not want on her body.
It is a veil, these strange boys
Pouring spirits down her throat.
Her drained laughter.
I am stranded in a city of closed eyes,
Praying to forget, hoping to remember.
And how love triumphs in this, I hope to learn.