i like being a thrill. / it’s easy not to remember.

some nights i miss the milky way strung out across the sky like the streetlights of heaven and i miss laying out on the wet accusing grass with you soaked through my clothes. we should do that sometime, you know, hang out these thoughts on the ceiling and lay on your bed and watch it like a television screen.

i like being a thrill. it’s easy not to remember. but when you come back,

i’ll pour the stars into glasses we’ll forget altogether what we’re drinking and remember, only

we were drinking.