Sun and Bleach and Bleach and Smoke
Sun and Bleach
We'd lie on the grass, the fading summer sun warming our faces and lighting up our hair, forming glowing halos around our heads. Yours a bright fiery red, the result of too much bleach and other sunny days. Mine a coppery gold, fanning out around my face. The smell of the crushed stalks waft through the air, mixed with your soft scent. Soft but harsh. It's the sweet smell of the hidden, the forbidden. What you snuck away last night to do, with everyone knowing anyways. "You're a bad kid," they say. You say it too. And it's true, you are. But I like you anyways, even love you, a little bit. I like the way you laugh. I like the way you're crass and coarse, but still kind. I like it, no, love it, when you hug me or just lean against me briefly to let me know you care.
We lie here, our little fingers just brushing against eachother, gazing up at the stars together, breathing it all in. We know this is the last night, our last stand. After this, it's over. Reality will tear us apart again as we go back to our real lives, beack to where we live. But 'till then, we lie here, liking eachother, maybe even loving eachotehr a little bit. Silent 'till the morning tears us apart.
Bleach and Smoke
The rough texture of your hair under my fingertips, worn down by the layers of bleach. The smell, your smell, the haze of smoke that always surrounds you wafts through the air. I miss you, but you aren't real to me anymore. Just a memory, a flash, a flicker of a match. A puff, then you're gone. Your smile, your laugh, faded as your hair, the orange glow dim. I miss you, but I don't remember you anymore
Clearly these were both written about the same person, just at different times. The second one was meant originally as sort of a take off of the first one. A later continuation of the thought process.
We'd lie on the grass, the fading summer sun warming our faces and lighting up our hair, forming glowing halos around our heads. Yours a bright fiery red, the result of too much bleach and other sunny days. Mine a coppery gold, fanning out around my face. The smell of the crushed stalks waft through the air, mixed with your soft scent. Soft but harsh. It's the sweet smell of the hidden, the forbidden. What you snuck away last night to do, with everyone knowing anyways. "You're a bad kid," they say. You say it too. And it's true, you are. But I like you anyways, even love you, a little bit. I like the way you laugh. I like the way you're crass and coarse, but still kind. I like it, no, love it, when you hug me or just lean against me briefly to let me know you care.
We lie here, our little fingers just brushing against eachother, gazing up at the stars together, breathing it all in. We know this is the last night, our last stand. After this, it's over. Reality will tear us apart again as we go back to our real lives, beack to where we live. But 'till then, we lie here, liking eachother, maybe even loving eachotehr a little bit. Silent 'till the morning tears us apart.
Bleach and Smoke
The rough texture of your hair under my fingertips, worn down by the layers of bleach. The smell, your smell, the haze of smoke that always surrounds you wafts through the air. I miss you, but you aren't real to me anymore. Just a memory, a flash, a flicker of a match. A puff, then you're gone. Your smile, your laugh, faded as your hair, the orange glow dim. I miss you, but I don't remember you anymore
Clearly these were both written about the same person, just at different times. The second one was meant originally as sort of a take off of the first one. A later continuation of the thought process.