The Party

We get older,
We outgrow our hot pants and glitter,
The mixers and slippery kisses
Tracing our waists.

Insects skulking our rotten oranges,
Tea at the bottom of mugs,
Lips dry from the pencils in our teeth,
And paperwork runs through our paper-thin blood.

They chuck me into their diary,
And that my drugless spine doesn’t get off on space cakes anymore
And I don’t believe in Urban Outfitters
But the knitted jumper and keys to lock my doors at night.

We all still have fun,
But there’s the rub,
The grey face, world-wearied, reliving the cheats.
Woods won’t keep secrets.

I put the peanut butter to my tongue
And am remembered by countless childhood kisses
From the fresh faced blooms of blossoms
And slide dens in the garden, swimming pools and itching with chlorine.

Moonlight creeps and I let myself slip away into the night,
And I grow older with every blink
And breath.
But who ever knew I was here?

I whip myself to the sky
And there the words overtake me, God’s in the fast lane,
Eyelids twisting with the weight of lead crushing them,
Creaming them to waste,

I can’t see anymore.

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