The smell of the bleach fumes remind you of the nights
when the screaming was so loud that
you had to hide away in dark rooms,
the chemicals burning up your nose and hands.

The shadows of small clubs that you would disappear into,
letting the too tall girls claw at your face in fake excitement,
while the pretty boys lay dead on the dance floor
waiting for just one kiss.

The smell of the bleach fumes remind you of the
boy that brought you guitar strings in the middle of the night,
just so you could play him his favorite song
while his scratchy voice sang along.

The hands of the school children,
who outstretch their arms through holes in the fence.
Trying feel what it’s like to grow up and older,
only to burn themselves on your jacket.
You not knowing how to apologize.

The blinking lights of a cop car
when you passed out from the euphoria
of doing absolutely nothing, and laughing when
your mom opened the door and asked,
“What has gotten into you?”

The smell of the bleach fumes remind you of the
last four days of summer
when you wanted something so entirely different
that you held your breath
and waited for the sky to change into the ground.