He smiles the way you think would be beautiful, if only it was on someone else.

His breath smells like beer and his hair is filled with traces of peppermint & marijuana

(Like he's channelling the youth & the new great depression)

I tell him this in all honesty and he replies "honestly I know, I know"

&

I'm starting to get used to this new, self revelation.

Shaped and moulded into ideas we create ourselves

But I'm spinning, spinning, accustomed now to the never quite awake, never quite real reality that fizzed on my tongue and made my hands shake.

And at 5 am I'm tasting the truth at the corners of his mouth & realizing that I'm just a little more breakable

a/n i finally feel like i need a hero, but its already too late