red cheeks white shirts blue eyes

we talk about growing up as if it’s over

as if it’s not still happening now every time we remember bloodshot eyes from crying slow dying

we talk about innocence as if we ever really had it

we equate it with red cheeks white shirts blue eyes

we discover ourselves downtown in songs sung by strangers arms around each other in camaraderie understanding

hopes of not falling apart

we have to hold each other up these days but never find the time

we used to talk about the future as if it would all fix itself recover

we talked morning muffins and neighboring apartments there at each others gallery openings book releases

we talked like we would live that long

now we come together on late night drives suppressing the obvious repressing much more

once a year we try and make it feel like it used to

i cant tell if it means as much to them now wont admit that i’ll take whatever i can get

desperate for anything that resembles that fortress we built back then

though nothing stands where it used to and some of us dont stand at all never stood a chance anyway

we drive down those old ghost roads and find nothing left

foundations (of our midnight headquarters) never meant to last

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~ by youngskeletons on January 14, 2012.

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