Being with her was like my first time in
a bar. I knew I could be there, I knew I
should be there, my soul screeched at the
thought of leaving, yet, I checked my ID
and my guilt and questioned myself a
million times. I felt young in the bar, in
her arms like I hadn't been alive and
was delivered to the planet just that
second. Everyone around me seemed to know
what to do
I felt young. I felt her. Soft,
significant. She was like strawberry
laces. Sweet. Wrapped all over me. I forgot
my name and said hers instead. Over and
over. I wasn't even sure if I was alive
anymore,
or if I was hanging in heaven, kneeling for
Nirvana. I looked up to her light
laughter, breathless as she bent down to
kiss my glossy lips and hold me in her
arms,
back at the bar, as I got drunk on her.
