Any night spent singing

my heart out,

jumping on a bridge that

swings under our weight,

scrawling our thoughts on

concrete blocks and

smashing glass jars against

rocks is a night well spent.

I don’t know what’s so energizing

about hearing the noise of

a million shards scattering

about a rough surface.

Any time spent with you talking,

just talking, about everything,

our deepest secrets,

our most mournful thoughts.

Our futures, our feelings,

our souls and spirits.

Every night spent with you

running, screaming,

pacing, pushing, jumping,

being so depressed that

we feel as if our hearts

could just disintegrate,

like your beat-up sneakers

or my beat-up jacket.

Our bloodstream is

coffee and french fries,

cheap as we can get them.

Our essence is

crumpled dollar bills,

pulled from the depths

of our pockets with

the rest of our desires.

Standing on a bench

shouting excerpts

of our freedom;

our anarchism raising hell

from the river floating feet away.

These are the nights we live for.

Our emotions thrown together

into this Molotov cocktail of

melancholy soaring its way through

grins and

outbursts of laugher;

accepting that

all dreams don’t come true and

erasing memories to

make room for new ones.

But these, my musketeers,

are the moments we

will remember forever;

standing in the freezing rain

smiling through gritted teeth

and jumping on an unsteady bridge.

These are the times that

will remain in our hearts

until the days that we forget how to feel;

and we will look back

and know that never,

never could we feel more

than we do on freezing Thursday nights

on an empty bridge

in our pitch-dark bliss…

living poetry.