meant to be read when you’re angry.
I remember when you had ten and your tattoos lit up in the night. Your cigarette smoke touched my cheeks and sang me songs that you had never written before. Your guitar screamed and your voice hummed and a fire danced on top of the sheets. The city lights were shut down just to let us glow.
I remember when you had twenty and you laughed louder, drank more, and flew higher. Your skin was suddenly gold and your eyes were silver, and the smoke was as white as ice. You said you would get a new tattoo for every thirty more you gained.
I remember when you had ninety and your smile was lit with a sheen of alcohol and ash and spit from the girl next door. Your arms are covered in those ink drawings, as thirty was pulled down to twenty, twenty pulled down to ten. You were flying higher than what reality allowed.
I remember when you had hundreds and you crashed harder than you could have ever before.
YOU ARE READING
Threads
Teen Fiction❝we are all searching for someone whose demons will play well with ours.❞ quiet rituals and even quieter conversations; a collectanea. (© promethean 2013; cover by promethean)
