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You inspire a time Reminiscent of the Marlboro Man, With your cigarettes And your sun-drunk tan. The nostalgia of an age Where words weren’t banned: You spoke uncensored And consumed new contraband – It made you feel a way in which You had a hard time describing – Its other-worldly effect Controlled your inner waves like Poseidon, And I watched as it made Your eyes and mind widen, The night you discovered psilocybin.

You told me it was fool’s errand To try and save you. But the only fool’s errand here Is me thinking I can save you Twice.   I did it once in our game of tag. I’ve been chasing you down to save you. And now it’s your turn to Chase – –  And find – Yourself.   You cannot drag me once more To a party Only to leave without a word. I cannot continue to hunt you down. I’m always out of breath.   You know I would lie for you. I would take a bullet for you. I would bury a

It’s the next morning.   We attempt to make your bed. The blankets lap the mattress Like waves on the beach, Clasping their water hands Against the sheets, Trying to dig their shell nails in In refusal to wake up.   They struggle against the cotton And the wool And the warmth.   The bed does not want to be made.   It wants you to pull me back into its Ocean of sheets And drown in the sensual chaos Of an unmade bed.