kaboom
and someone’s always leaving.
remember when we used to go
out on the town all the time
like two aryan beauties, my god
that was what i wanted
and we’d trip trip trip
and our hands would become each others
then in the morning, we could say one word
and just know what we meant
because of all the memories
and now we’re in the booth
sitting awkwardly next to each other
except for me, who keeps falling out of the booth
and we’re just smiling and living
until you offer me some buiscuit
and i don’t want your fucking buiscuit
so you say “i can’t take your shit anymore!”
and i say “No don’t go!”
and you say “i’m leaving”
and it’s so fucking sad that you’re just gone.
and some girl in the backseat will write a poem and we’ll just know.