All Nonfiction
- Bullying
- Books
- Academic
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Heroes
- Interviews
- Memoir
- Personal Experience
- Sports
- Travel & Culture
All Opinions
- Bullying
- Current Events / Politics
- Discrimination
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Environment
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
All Hot Topics
- Bullying
- Community Service
- Environment
- Health
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
- Back
Summer Guide
- Program Links
- Program Reviews
- Back
College Guide
- College Links
- College Reviews
- College Essays
- College Articles
- Back
The Way Things Fell Apart
We ran through apartment complex parking lots;
climbing on top of car roofs and choking on unfiltered cigarettes.
Because we were young ,
and we talked about what would happen if we jumped the fence to get out of this town,
we just wanted to feel alive.
The pavement glistened like our eyes as we ran under street lights
and opened our arms to the moon and swore up and down we would never die,
that we couldn’t die.
And we crossed bridges we later burned,
but it was beautiful because we didn’t know we were doomed then.
And we drove through the city at night because it seemed so cool in the movies,
but we got distracted by bad music and silly advertisements on billboards.
I made temporary friends that barely lasted the weekend,
but nobody cared because we all had the same goals, the same fears.
But there were microwaves in bedrooms and sinks in living rooms
and we blew cash on cheap cough syrup and fruity shisha
until we had twenty fingers and the ground was liquid.
And you were so sad and I was so scared
and we spent more time glancing at digital clocks through heavy smoke
until it was time to say goodnight than meeting eyes.
I spent a lot of time floating through empty space with you,
trying to help you find yourself;
hoping one day I’d be an anchor heavy enough to stop your racing thoughts and false accusations
of the world and yourself.
Well f***, was infidelity what I deserved for trying my best?
The drugs just don’t work like they used to...
Similar Articles
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 0 comments.