so we breathe an exhale of relief, curtain calls and late night breakfasts. the girl across from me was crying earlier, yelling into a plastic phone and the stage makeup running down her face. she sips her coffee and settles on the lap of some lead boy and talks about all of us. i wish we could do this all the time, she says, they all feel like a family. i nod my head and bite my lip.

we bicker in the backseat and i just want to grab your face and kiss it but i can't because my mom is fiddling with the radio. in my head i construct our life and you slam the door. promises never seem to get anyone anywhere.

sunday and it's cloudy. rain has been pouring and i remember the time you drove me home from practice, you couldn't see the white lines of the road, just the glow of the street lights. my head was against the window and i was shivering, content to sit and feel dangerously safe surrounded by wet, almost like drowing with you. they fish and i take pictures of dolphins once the sun comes out, the water is green with envy at the blueness of the sky and i itch for your lips kissing my skin like they did that time we went to the beach.

lately i've been missing that lingering feeling, that spark that way your voice sounds. the sound of electric music hovers over your voice and i can't think of what to say. my lips are chapped from biting them so much, i feel so out of time.

so you see why i haven't been writing?
vomit vomit vomit.