Hostages

The day turned into night and night brought another shitty day. My boyfriend and I sat on the porch smoking cigarettes; the honesty of dawn shining on our faces was overwhelming to us. My bare blue knees at dawn, praying for an ideal life, we knew that we might never stand tall. We talked about heaven when we were hell-bent. Wrapped up in solitude and repent. We were shooting for the moon, staring at the sun, hopped up on chemicals aiming with his dad’s gun. When we were young we never had any fun. I wrote my boyfriends name with an array of bullets in the sky, the one sky he always told me we could reach, when he taught me how to get so high. He didn’t want to give me a habit, but isn’t love about sharing lives after all. We had an identity in this place now here. Pierced our poison names in each other’s skin in a continuous attempt of ridding of the pain and disposing of sins. I let him have my last cigarette; I swallowed my pride. I gave him my standards when he gave me a sense of substance. exert by me