This summer will be blue
My friend. You know we cannot last.
Time will cast our lives apart,
We’ll part -too soon, each our own way.
This summer we will finally
Be free to roam the night,
As lamposts light the empty hours
The bonfires, swings, and graveyards, ours.
This summer will taste bittersweet.
In silent streets of a stone town,
We’ll lose against teen angst and drown
The pain in cheap white wine.
To think this summer is the last,
The warmth, joy sorrow gone too fast.
We must live now! There is no cure:
The dawn is always premature.
I stood once at the edge
of a cliff in Mazatlan
and felt it
It starts in your toes
steals up your legs
until you’re not entirely sure
they’re yours anymore
and certainly your hair isn’t
those belong to the wind
as if to say
there’s nothing nearly