you told me about how you used to wear your jnco jeans with the big pockets to make it easier to shoplift every time you went to buy supplies at the store.

the night air bit at my skin as i sat next to you in the darkness, your cigarette smoke wafting into my face with every exhale you took
the cold of the concrete penetrated through the fabric of my jacket as i pressed my back against the wall, looking up at the still figure of roger williams, staring out into the distance, watching
i shivered, my pasadena sensibilities revealing themselves

i tiptoed around my words as we spoke a constant dialogue, never a full truth and never a full lie
feeling that unsettling knot in the pit of my stomach
constant and unmoving no matter how much i tried

when we parted ways in front of my building that morning, i noticed the gentle yellow glow of the sun rising in the distance
as you wrapped your arm around me and gave a rough squeeze, condemning me to a fate of distant greetings

sometimes i think about you floating around in your room, feeling sweet.
but at what cost?