"Here, past all these fucking addictions and all that has gone wrong, with real good taste in music and an ego the size of Montana, and, you know, when you're smart and young and smoking on the sidewalks in the rain, you could probably call this a blessed life."
cwi would like to write you down
and then erase you
wipe away the undertow of adolescence
the scraped knees and chapstick kisses
the way you showed me the way home
(your fingers circling my wrist
like i was delicate)
and the times you curled around me
under expensive sheets
tapping melodies against my ribcage.
i would like to write you down
and then erase you
rubbing pink against the white
until the paper screams and tears
and the pencil smudges slick and dirty
streaking memories between blue lines.
i would like to write you down
and then erase you
or maybe fold you into an airplane
with sorry scribbled on the wing
(i’m sorry that you know the way
my shoulders climb when i’m crying)
send it soaring down wind-dancing
from the rooftop where you wrote
your name on my hand
and we watched the ink seep in
to where it can not be erased.
