champagne year
and we always smelled like
a fistful of 1's on fire.

the year I took to pushing
things over just to see what was inside
and the year you got your first pair of boots
and learned the art of stomping things
into something new and ugly.

every moment was high and brash
like the nightmares of northern lights
and neither of us saw saints
in our friends or mothers
but supreme demons in
each other.

summer nights ripping
each other's flesh off
under one lightbulb.
autumn leaves as dust.
winter blacker than
I have ever seen.
spring honey drunk
with chapstick
greased ankle-holding,
giving you five minutes
to show me god
in your backseat.

the drugs were cheap.
the music was loud.
but your fingers
were screaming.
screaming on plastic.
screaming on latex.
screaming on steel.
screaming on halos.
on pills, on paper, on asphalt,
and on me they whispered,
they took skin slow like whiskey.

champagne year
and you were the drunk,
two faces strung to one
with tinsel left over from
last year.

champagne year
and I never got to scream.

written & shot by Coz Conover

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