Sarah sits on the porch smoking
she comes off more confident than she really feels
I think-
based on what she tells me when no one else is around
I’m sitting two seats away
taking pictures of everything I see
I come off as self-conscious,
because I am

the air feels different this May
nothing is familiar
there’s a new basement that we spend time in
there is no warm hand to hold
I go to sleep almost every night in a bed that’s not mine
but it feels like mine
and her alarms go off every ten minutes
and I’m awake thinking of what I’d give to go back

but the next night there are cigar wrappers on the table
and people sitting in a circle,
smiling and laughing through thin haze,
and there are new hands to shake
it’s hard to remember sometimes,
that the air is actually the same as last year,
because we’re wearing the same shorts we pull out every spring,
and night after night I’m sitting with a best friend

and there are others, too
who help take out bottles of Yuengling
or handles of Captain
even if we have to wake the next morning
and put on a uniform
just to turn around
and take it off
and do it all again

3 days ago · 3 notes