The blood from a peach runs down your chin
Blunts on the porch, your skin on my skin
Can we call moving forward if
It's just a bolt bus to your house?
And we both know we're gonna lie here
Smoking till our lungs turn black
Just us and our bitter hearts
Looking at stars for hours in the back of your car
And we grow tougher than we feared
That we'd ever be forced to and more tender
Then we had ever thought possible
With our seven bodies crammed onto my mattress
Windows open, the wallpaper peeling and fading
And our trauma becomes washed out
More abstract and stomped out, and
I know even though I don't have everything worked out
I'm gonna call all the people
I miss to say I can't wait to kiss you and
Chain smoke on your front step
Lay my head on your chest
Ghosts of friends
Waist-deep in lake Washington
I will never forget all the reasons
I'm not dead yet
All the cats in my neighborhood and
All the times you asked for help and I couldn't give it
We feel lost like kids on the streets
Inside our brains carved by abuse, love, survival
And all those other things one way streets
Internalized as we ride our bikes
They become the neighborhood we grew up in
After all of the phone calls, all the letters I wrote you
You'd think I'd figure out the words to tell you how much I love
You, and I know it's hard for you
To feel like you deserve to feel good