Denver Ice

Ways to mourn us.

7.22.2015

It’s okay if no one gets it but me. 

“That’s it…”

 I’ll remember those fucking words for as long as I live.

I’m not saying this is all because of you. What I’m saying is you were a tourist in my life. I’m the destination. And all you’ll  ever be is a footnote in my story. 

Sometimes the air feels like You

Like my feet up on the coffee table

In Your living room with two beers

That first visit I took to see you in October

And it makes this entire planet feel claustrophobic 

I should know better than to try to breathe 

On a planet I was never made for in the first place

We fell in love here, the moon was happening.

This love is a ghost

A sycophantic, prophetic, Socratic junkie wannabe

While I Try to Forget, We Used to be Something Great

I can’t pretend this shit isn’t completely funneled from the shittiest parts of my old heart and onto the paper. It takes an immense amount out of me, making these…

A reflection on what you saw in me

It’s fun to fuck the bad girl

It’s fun to run away on day trips with the bad girl

To break and enter

Drink alcohol and smoke blunts with the bad girl

It’s fun to exchange stolen bracelets with the bad girl

Get spur of the moment tattoos,

Drink while driving on the highway with your feet hanging out the passenger door with the bad girl

It’s fun to stay out all night blue-lighting and fucking in the backseat of your mother’s car,

To get wasted on gin in a strip club with the bad girl

To kiss her in the walk in freezer at work

To rent a hotel room and get drunk and fuck all night with the bad girl

It’s fun to sky dive,

Mountain bike

Be boats on the end of a broken into pier,

With the bad girl

But it isn’t nice to keep the bad girl

It isn’t fun to see the flaws you once yearned for in the bad girl

To see only reckless, short lived summers and nights and plane trips

It isn’t worth it to stand by the bad girl

To help her love herself and fix the fault lines that run deep in her heart and mind

It’s fun to fuck around with the bad girl

And that’s all 

Watching a video of somewhere We had been and scan the background like a predator to its prey. Looking for Our summer love like a lasting brand, a shred of evidence that what happened wasn’t imagined. It felt so good back then, I wouldn’t doubt I drank enough to hallucinate it all. A placeholder. A bookmark in a novel in the shades of blue and yellow.