vonchester

we inhale the romanticism of hooded cemetery kids smoking cigarettes pretending they are not dead. you were always so sure about my uncertainty, you watched all my pick up lines drop things into open graves meant for us. your eyes always wandered down thoughtful leaf-strewn paths. i wanted to ask you if i could follow but i came alone this time i remember our innocence in the static b e t w e e n stars, think about how youth without you is th- awing out the lines in my whittled-out eyes i look to the hooded cemetery kids, wonder what we'd have been like if we grew up as nothings, like them. teenage nothings with chiseled marble in our vo