you can't tell i ever hit you with my car now;
the hood's been replaced, entire car repainted and everything has been wiped to a clean slate.

i think you already know this. i don't think i have to repeat here.

occasionally, i see you limping to buy smokes. you hassle women who walk by, tell them that isn't a bottle of Jack in your pocket; you really are just happy to see them. they know better.
there are gaps between your teeth now, the tobacco smell forever attached to you.
you keep everything close now. no more hiding bits and pieces at every friend's house from here to Canada. no, you've collected them all and carry around a plastic bag full of the few things you hold dear.

truth be told, you don't really hold anything dear anymore. that dream splattered the day i hit you with my car.

and we can spend another weekend together, we can hold up in a Red Roof Inn just like we used to, but nothing in that room is going to keep us from falling down.

and we can say friendship is worth more than a few broken promises and bruised lips, we can scream this at the top of any mountain but the sound doesn't carry far enough.

i think you already thought this. i think i still see full-sized memories dangling from your fingers. i think i still feel something for you other than hate.

and we're going to walk around this town one last time. we're going to photograph every corner, every place we either puked, fucked or fought. we're going to make ourselves sick with regrets. and you're not going to convince me that tree wasn't there before, that we didn't handcuff ourselves to it one night because we thought it was the only way to save ourselves from one another.

no, i imagine you're not going to convince me of much of anything anymore
except that we still fuck each other better than anyone else ever could.

06/27/2011

Author's Note: inspired by a few things, one of which a song by The National.

Posted on 06/27/2011
Copyright © 2026 Ava Blu