when i was young my grandma had an ashtray in her porch
used for holding pennies and golf tees in
didn't know what it was til i was fifteen
and noticed it while were sitting,
talking to each other about how things change

and in our living room we kept a trunk
adorned white paint and chipping leather edges
filled with coloring book and arm covers from a couch we
threw out years ago

and in my room i had a small wooden box
kept on a shelf, open without any sort of lock
it held letters from an ex girlfriend
written in ink and addressed to me by hand
and other words i planned to keep from distant, broken ties

that summer i didn't sleep
til the sun was rising and the air was warmed by its fire that burned brightly
the nights were filled with friends,
sneaking out and drinking
filled with cigarettes and memories that curled away in the air
filled with good times that
in a way i never wanted to come to an end

and on a summer night
i met a boy in a tyedye shirt that my friend asked for a light
his smile won me over
and his ringtone resonated in my mind
we hung out in the dark
conversations in grass
and when i thought of quitting i saved my last ten cigarettes
for being with him

for once, my thoughts were never racing
and for once, i didn't want to die
i felt it finally, what it felt to really be alive