Like Crazy

Lime green lightning bugs lit up the road late on a school night
and you squeezed my hand, while lip-syncing to Ed Sheeran.
Inside your car, we were safe and invisible, baby.
You rested your cheek on my shoulder and I fell
for the dangerous tints of maple in your irises.
Maybe it was naive or maybe it was real; either way,
we threw caution to the wind,
along with ash from our convenience store cigarettes,
and kissed hotly like nobody could stop us.
You were someone I wanted to keep forever;
tie you up with imaginary rope and trap you
inside the denim shadows of my closet case memory.
But you weren't so uptight, didn't worry about being discovered
and always tried to avoid confrontation
with a cool summer rain smile.

In this cowboy stargazer equation,
I was the emotional one with messy hair and poet tears
watering up my vision, and you were a saint, from the outside;
valedictorian and most likely to succeed,
even though none of it would've existed
if your friends knew the truth about what you liked to do with me
after the last bell rang at three.

"I love you like crazy,"you would say to me in private,
wearing an old jersey and holding me
on the couch in the basement.
The veins in your arms looked like branches skinny and scary as hell.
But I traced them with my fingers
until you flipped us over and made me swear; in frustrated groans,
that, come senior year; we'd still be doing this because
according to you, we were invincible together.
Yeah, what we felt was unrealistic hope
and the thrill of playing with fire.

But I wanted you like a drop of sin,
like the best damn lie ever invented under cornflower skies;
with bruised lips and my hands climbing up your train track spine.
Baby, we weren't careful because where's the fun in that, right?
Then, one afternoon, a door creaked open
and your father walked in on us huddled together,
under flicker-beat dragonfly bulb.
Sometimes I wonder where we'd be if he had waited
a couple of more seconds..
Would you be here instead of across the country
where the air smells like salt and seaweed
with another lover whispering jokes in your ear
and autumn leaves sticking to your book bag?
But it's hard to miss you when you're taken, so
I'm letting go and it's okay
because maybe I was just a kid, anyway.