Youth is peeling tinted windows of old cars that smell like cigarettes
The burns from years past on the ceiling that melted the fibers together
Youth is cigarette brands that your grandparents smokes
Cigarette brands your ex-boyfriend smokes
The cheapest pack of cigarettes at the gas station
Youth is dry, hot summer air
Sitting in the car, chain-smoking with your best friend
The radio is the only keeper of time
Youth is sap stuck to your shoes and vomit on your clothes
From smoking pot and drinking in the park until four in the morning
From drinking a bottle of whiskey to forget why I’m here
Youth is skin against skin
Where passion can so quickly turn into desperation
Where young, naive trust is so easily shattered when dropped
Youth is sexual assault
And not knowing what to call it
