Lime green lightning bugs lit up the road late on a school night
and you squeezed my hand while lip-syncing to Ed Sheeran.
Inside your car, we were safe and invisible, baby.
You rested your cheek on my shoulder and I fell
for the dangerous tints of maple in your irises.
Maybe it was naive or maybe it was real;
either way, we threw caution to the wind
along with the ash from our convenience
store cigarettes and kissed hotly like nobody could stop us.
You were someone I wanted to keep forever;
tie you up with imaginary rope and trap you
inside the denim shadows of my closet case memory.
But you weren't so uptight; didn't worry about being
discovered and always tried to avoid confrontation
with a cool summer rain smile.
In this cowboy stargazer equation,
I was the emotional one with
messy hair and poet tears
watering up my vision and
you were a saint from the outside;
valedictorian and most likely to succeed,
even though none of it would've
existed if your friends knew the truth
about what you liked to do with me
once the last bell rang at three.
"I love you like crazy," you
would say to me in private,
wearing an old jersey and
holding me on the couch in the basement.
The veins in your arms
looked like branches;
skinny and scary as hell.
But I traced them with my fingers until
you flipped us over and
made me swear in frustrated groans
that, come senior year,
we would still be doing
this because according to you,
we were invincible together.
Yeah, what we felt was unrealistic
hope and the thrill of playing with fire.
But I wanted you like a drop of sin;
like the best damn lie ever invented
under cornflower skies with bruised
lips and my hands climbing
up your train track spine.
Baby, we weren't careful
because where's the fun in that, right?
Then one afternoon, a door creaked open
and your father walked in on us huddled
under the dragonfly bulb.
Sometimes I wonder where we'd be if
he had waited a couple more seconds.
Would you be here instead of across
the country where the air
smells like salt and seaweed with
another lover whispering
jokes in your ear and autumn
leaves sticking to your book bag?
But it's too hard to miss you
when you're taken so I'm letting
go and it's okay because
maybe I was just a kid anyway.