We always used to wonder

if there was more to life

than smoking blunts

in the parking lot at the mall.

Sometimes we’d walk

by the sand that lined the lake,

and the boys would watch

and whistle. You used to ask

who was prettier: me or you,

don’t worry, we won’t get offended,

we totally understand.

The first time someone pointed to me,

you bit your lip so hard it bled.

I want to tell you now:

Life isn’t always pretty.

It’s still smoking blunts

on rocks by the river crying

about boyfriend drama

or cramps

and cold water in the shower

stale potato chips for dinner

jeans that don’t quite fit

and cracked iPhone screens

as broken as your mind.

My best friend painted the walls

in the living room with glow paint

when she tripped on acid.

She drew my name next to a flower,

told me we were both beautiful.

Little moments make the world shine.

Sometimes I think of calling you

but I know you wouldn’t pick up the phone.