youth

i consider myself to be rather grown-up

and above such things.

even if we did buy a record player

before cutlery.

and the girls in high-school

have all had babies.

i wish i were them.

it used to be: photo albums

or yearbooks:

"you're so great! xoxo"

now it's thousands of images

of bad haircuts,

spots that lasted as long as boyfriends

(a week or so).

there i stand,

flushed with vodka

in the s****y t-shirts i used to make myself.

words that i gave meaning

and ironed on,

laboriously.

proof i was there, we were there

that we loved each other

and suffered.

and the boy of overpowering coolness.

who moved to london to dress in drag

and paint beauty spots

on his thin cheeks.

daisy chains

and pierced ears.

nose rings.

my boyfriend did a lot of drugs and lost his mind

now he's a pastor and engaged to miss piggy.

Reviews

[...]

I really like this write, made me chuckle a bit.
Such powerful imagery, you did a wonderful write here.
It's sad about the drug thing but cute as well.