1

there's chapstick on my fingers
memories of your lips
and the cotton sun glares down on us
but we don't notice because now there's chapstick on my lips
and on my hips
and on the forbidden places we put our hands to our mouths to speak of

you're my wonderland boy with the beer bottle eyes
and you tell me
that i'm your butterfly girl

chapstick never tasted so good

2

you taste like roses, he told me
it wasn’t a compliment as his hands ran away from me
his feet danced the same rhythm
and soon his chapstick kisses were gone

my hands felt empty without the weight him on them
without the Sharpied peace signs and i-love-you's he'd stenciled on my fingertips
now all i wrote was hatehatehate.

the day the dirt rose up on all sides around the redwood you came back
it was too late
like your apologies and phone calls

she’d already jumped, wonderland boy
and it was worth the fall