you were like some drug to me and now i hardly get to sleep again...

it's okay with me:

i feel we've wasted our entire time
waiting for those types of backyard conversations
that only happen once in a life.

there are those days when we shuffle along,
hoping to hear the crackled muffles or heavy slurs
coming from the other line.
we try to forget the mornings when we pack up our suitcases,
slipping on our clothes,
and screaming about whose father is to blame.

we sway like your mother's hips at the dance hall.
back and forth, reeking of some secret exhaustion.
we're not in love.
we don't even know what we are searching for.
we can't remember birthdays and anniversaries
or which day it was that we first knew.
we both make our claims-
speak in parables like some version of a savior,
hoping someday we'll not be afraid.