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
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.