God sends an angel down every time
I hear skateboards grinding into concrete
Because 16 is too young to start counting the deaths of soulmates
We giggled as we stuffed notes into Josh McMillan's locker;
Scampered through sewer drains
and burrowed towards opportunity
in hopes of connecting ourselves to brighter futures
I will always remember the first time you died.
You ripped open your throat to let the larks warble in your voicebox;
performed tracheotomies to loosen up the spirit of the world around you
And I strummed your chest like broken guitar chords on Christmas morning
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