liminal space

i ride the bus home from school
take the same route everyday
and find my seat in the back, pushing aside
bubblegum wrappers and love letters

someday i’ll leave this place
its cotton-candy promise, just a little rotten
to the touch
someday i’ll get tired of leaving breadcrumbs behind
someday there won’t be any romance left

in making a name for myself
or whatever else they sold me
so i’ll leave, and i’ll scratch my initials into the metal railing
beside all those that came and left before

when i come back someday,
2010s nostalgia
playing like a broken record
this bench will be covered in graffiti, the old tally-marks scrawled over

other people are gonna sit there
at our spot in the corner, behind the looming bookshelves
they’re gonna hold hands and watch the crowd
beneath the tree
throw rocks over the edge, and watch them fall

other people will take my spot by the window
watch the summers go by in a dizzy blur

find the fake roses and hydrangeas
stuck to the plants in late-spring
realize the ivy is just plastic and glue
i hope the heartbreak goes
easy on their open wounds
i hope their angels try to soften the blow
as they fall off their pedestals and bleed in the snow

other people
will walk these roads, like we did
when we were fifteen
sit on the stage, eating candy in the rain
and when we got bored, we’d share an umbrella and walk back home

other people, will settle in my place

but i’m never going to be that girl again

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