Friday, May 10, 2013

Last night I drank vodka from the bottle and three sober boys let me kiss them.

Even though I touched their lips after mine parted to say goodbye, each one meant something a little different from the last.

I climbed to the roof of two different buildings and now I have scrapes on my knees. It was too cloudy to see the stars.

I go home tomorrow. 

Things will be different from when I left them last.

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