the stars streak glitter across
the bathroom floor; cutting like
razor blades into the grout,
bleeding like this meant something-

because it was supposed to:
this knife was intended for juicy
tangerines, the festering fruits
that quench our thirsts

but today we escape differently,
with expensive wine from your
parents’ cellar for we were meant
to live like kings

through backstreet mazes and
losing-our-way
we have found each other and
opened our arms to that beauty

yet here I am, drunk across your
white, moonlit tile holding
onto a hand that can’t even
hold up himself

03/03/2004

Author's Note: this isn't it. you are so much more than words allow.

Posted on 03/03/2004
Copyright © 2026 Lauren Pearl