Fifteen

I was never a drug lord, 

I was an apostle, 

worshiping the winter, 

skipping summers in my bed. 

He never looked at me the way he said he did. 

I had a dream about you again, 

in that little blue sweater, 

it isn't anything rational but 

I know deeply that something seeded and 

sprouted choking my lungs in thick leaves and buds. 

Our father, 

who art in heaven, 

let my friend come back, 

so I can say just one more time, 

"I love you", 

on the midnight of her fifteenth. 

Stare me down on sixth at ten, 

you get the fraction of me. 

I wasn't anything or anyone until 

you offered me a drink, 

gasoline extinguishing the inferno between 

the walls of my skull. 

Sniping my heart, 

your bullets aren't very far away 

when we breathe the same gun powder every morning- 

we summoned each other precisely 

when I couldn't remember names anymore. 

Thank you for telepathically ruining my life.