if you ask I'd say I remember
cider, lychee martini, tequila and ginger ale
us swaying and laughing
only people dancing
my face neon under the red light
and you saying I'm pretty
you lighting a cigarette and telling me I'm a gift
the blurry buzz of the supermarket opposite the bar
the cool air on my bare arms, your denim jacket on my shoulders
shoutout from the band
tripping up the stairs
porcelain white and blue sink
picture in the full length mirror
linking arms in the streets
you saying we were pretty
waiting for the train
warm air, spacing out
countdown in the carriage
you turning 19 at the strike of 12
cold night as we walked back to your house
huddled together as we talked about insignificance, multiverses, earth and life,
the buzz wearing off and our tired eyes
ears ringing in the silent hallway
hugging for just a little longer
wishing you sweet dreams as you closed the door
a lift from my mother for the two of us
a certain peace to be found in the absence of people on the streets as we drove you home, wishing you a good day, watching you get in and feeling big and great because life really hurts a little less when you've got your girls
YOU ARE READING
jolie memphis
PoetrySuzanne led me over to the gap, that pale opaque liquid seeping into my skin-honey, I realised. she leaned in close, voice warm and soft, the scent of aniseed on her breath. you can be anyone you want, she whispered. I closed my eyes. who are yo...
