martyrs and liarsHe tells me he has a band, they're traveling and he's vacationing. I tell him I have blisters on my feet.More Like This
We've been halfway across the country in his dad's station wagon, taking little pieces of the land and leaving little pieces of ourselves. I like him best when the sun is setting and he's spread out on the hood of the car like it could be anybody's fault when we both know it's mine. When we both know I killed him.
Our limbs always seem to find a way to tangle, to dance around each other until they're trapped together. But it's so detached, the way our legs twine like braided string and our arms divorce from our sides to marry between our chests. And we are, we are exactly like the way our bodies move. We represent ourselves perfectly and we dont talk about it.
I tell him we're a rip current. He tells me to stop.
We've been halfway across our lives in this journey, indiscreetly stealing little pieces of each other with no intention of returning them. He likes me best in the ba