I shoplifted your secrets at the five and dime,
But your sacred secrets dripped through my lap.
I carried your midnight dreams at the corner drug store,
But they spilled out when I dropped the box.
I ran away with the pocket of your jeans when you forgot them in the locker room,
But it turns out my jeans aren't blue.
I swindled your sad songs into coming with me for the night,
But they didn't want to sing for me, so I sent them back.
I robbed a faded flower of the button of your black leather suit,
But it died from the sweat of my hand.
So now I just want to ask...
How far do I swim on the razor of time?
How many lies do I fan out on the table for you.
I don't want to follow you.
I don't want to swallow you.
I just want to ask you...
What's your measure of reality?
How much space do I occupy in your reality?
How do I stand?
And what do I do to have any verity?
Because I will make flags fall with the rain for you.
And I will make a ritual of arbitrary fantasy for you.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.