sixteen;

484 49 1
                                    

I think I have found

my escape in a young boy

whose face I will never forget.

his brown hair ruined by sleep and sex

He smelled of roses

and cigarette smoke. His

green eyes resembled olives

that swam around in my mother's

martini glass. His lips curled into a

smile as he seemed perplexed

by cars passing him by.

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